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[A] Galvan II: The Next Stage (update!)

krome_devil

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Posted: Fri Jun 15, 2007 8:36 pm

Galvan II

UPDATE: Due to the amount of applicants and the group their interested in. We are officially NPCing Admon's nova's. That leaves the two Nova groups as Devia and Team Tommorrow. We're making a bit of adjustment for this unexpected development. (Yes we're surprised that no one wants to be the "badish" guys.) We'll be giving directions and setting for intro posts as soon as we're ready.

Any questions please contact any of the Ladies of Galvan.

It's here.

That's right. It's finally here. Now, i'm just now posting this, though i probably should have posted it earlier. The rules. So there are no questions. Everyone must read. I didn't think i'd even have to post these. But due to backtalk, and smarm given to Pansa and Merlinic both publically and even more so privately when edits or something are asked for, i'm putting these rules out there.

Quote:

Melissa's Roleplay Commandments.

1) Thou shall be nice.
This means to EVERYONE. In character meanness is just fine, but if ANYONE, and i mean ANYONE gives Pansa or Merlinic smarm. (I really like that word >_>) I'm going to start heaving the battle axe. As evil and selfish as this sounds. You get to hear it anyway.

2) Thou shall be literate
Complete sentences, paragraphs, etc.

3) Thou shall not be emo out of character.
Emo-ness annoys me. I rarely allow it in character and never out of character.

4) Thou shall remember to be patient.
People running this and playing this are human. Sometimes delays pop up. Sometimes responses aren't immediate. Get over it.

5) Thou shall NOT metagame.
This annoys me alot. if your character gets a mack truck dropped on them. Guess what. Unless their powers allow them to REASONABLY avoid it. They get squished. Period. You get hit by a bus bad things happen.

6) Thou shall try to have fun.
If you are not having fun, then maybe this isn't the place for you. But Whether you are or not. I expect that you do NOT disrupt other peoples fun.

7) The GM's are ALL POWERFUL.
Let me make something VERY clear. This is MY roleplay idea. I created it. Pansa and Merlinic Matrices have joined forces to make running it possible. Which means it is OUR roleplay. What we say goes. if your character becomes a distraction or a disturbance, and is disrupting other people's fun, we will come down like the hand of God.
Nephatie is also always waiting in the wings, with plenty of amunition, explosive chemicals, and al sorts of fun pointy objects to handle problems as well.
We want this to be fun, but obviously it has to have some order. And if you're disrupting it. Then you're done.

Note: If you have questions or concerns at this time please PM them to Pansa. She's on PM duty right now. Thanks!

Posted: Fri Jun 15, 2007 8:37 pm

The following is an excerpt from a documentary hosted by Janie Johnson. In the show's opening segment, the camera flashes through a series of short clips of seemingly normal humans performing a variety of feats, from hovering above the ground with no visible supports to throwing cars the length of a football field. The film quality is grainy, suggesting its amateur nature.

Janie [voiceover]: Six years ago, the world changed with the eruption of the first known nova in a burning apartment building in the middle of New York City. In this in-depth look at the impact of Novas on our world today, we must first start with the Galvan Nova Academy.

[The images change to an overhead view of a small but professional looking campus, followed by a number of clips of the students themselves showing off their newfound powers.]

Janie [voiceover]: This school was funded entirely by the then little-known Galvan Corporation, which made more than 15 billion dollars in annual profit 5 years ago and quadruple that amount this past year, for reasons we’ll discuss shortly.

[The camera switches to a view of Janie herself, sitting poised and polished in a beige armchair.]

Janie: The students at this school received lessons in how to control and utilize their powers, in addition to the traditional education offered at the more standard private schools in this country. Though the academy began with only a handful of students, by the end of its first six months of operation it had over a hundred young novas within its walls and was still growing by leaps and bounds. The Galvan Corporation soon began building other nova schools--in the deserts of Arizona, the backwoods of Canada, and later in the Alps of Italy. Two smaller schools were also constructed in the Andes mountains of Peru and the Siberian tundra of northern Russia.

[After showing a few sample clips of each of the aforementioned academies, the camera returns to Janie.]

Janie: When asked as to why all of their schools were built in such remote locations, the Galvan Corporation asserted that they wanted the novas to have a place away from the public where they could be free to learn to use and control their powers without harming anyone in the process. Galvan encouraged any and all novas to study at their schools for as long as they wished, and the nova population soon obliged them. Within a year more than a thousand novas from every country in the world were sitting in these classrooms, with powers ranging from the nearly useless to those that could topple mountains.

Alas, the Nova’s abilities also led to a number of near-fatal and fatal accidents, though it should be noted that only two of these occurred at Galvan’s institutions. The first known death of a nova, that of Carly Hamilton in a car crash five years ago, enabled scientists to make astounding new discoveries that were soon confirmed by further autopsies and examinations.

[The camera pans out, revealing scientist Michael Flemming sitting across from Janie in similarly beige armchair.]

Janie: I’m here today with Michael Flemming, who recently won a Nobel Prize for his work in biology. Mr. Flemmin, what did you find when you autopsied that first body?

Michael: It was quite extraordinary, to say the least. For one, this particular girl’s tissues all had an unbelievable elasticity to them, and her family later confirmed that her power had involved a flexibility, not to mention stretchability, that no human contortionist could match.

Janie: And what else?

Michael: The girl’s brain was also very intriguing. It was about ten percent larger than the average for girls her age, most of that extra matter being concentrated in the prefrontal cortex. In order to compensate, the rest of the brain had shifted slightly, giving it an altogether different look. We hadn’t expected anything like that. We got permission to do CAT scans on a number of other novas, and that combined with autopsies other scientists were doing at the time enabled us to compile a whole body of knowledge on the subject. For example, it turned out that there was a loose correlation between the size of the prefrontal cortex and the degree of the Nova’s powers, and a much stronger such correlation if you compared only Novas with very similar abilities.

Janie: So, if the Novas are so different on such a basic level, could they be scientifically classified as a separate species?

Michael: I don’t claim to be an authority, but potentially, yes. The scientific community as a whole seems to be leaning toward that conclusion.

[Michael looks inclined to continue, but the camera shifts back to Janine as she continues her narration.]

Janie: Thank you, Mr. Flemming. In addition to being some of its most interesting subjects, the novas themselves soon became an integral part of the scientific community. Hyper-intelligent novas, many of them working directly out of the Galvan academies, created cures for AIDS, cancer, leukemia, Alzheimer’s, pneumonia, malaria, and even male pattern baldness, not to mention the enormous strides some of them made in theoretical physics and a score of other subjects. It should be noted that the patents for all of these new discoveries lied solidly in the hands of Galvan Corporation, which quickly began making millions when the miracle cures were rushed through the FDA. Novas were hailed as the saviors of the modern world, and they seemed to be everywhere--not just in some of the nation’s greatest laboratories, but on its stages and novel covers and daily headlines too. The greatest thing to ever happen to the world, however, ended with one shocking video clip.

Quote:

Two men are methodically digging a pit while an angry crowd swarms around them; as the camera pans around, the small form of someone covered by a burka--presumably a female--can be seen kneeling on the ground. A large pair of tattered butterfly-like wings sprout from the figure’s back, fluttering faintly; her hands are bound with a rough cord. The crowd roars she struggles and tries vainly to escape; her wings are flapping to no avail.

The men step back from the pit and the camera swings around as the girl is dragged into it and held as they begin shoveling dirt back into it, burying her from the waist down. This close to the camera, her sobs are clearly audible. At one point the girl’s left wing catches one of the diggers in the gut, and with a scowl on his face the man reaches over and snaps the wing’s supporting filament before violently ripping a large section of it from the figure’s back. He then spits and throws the tattered filament of wing at her half-buried form before returning to his job with a renewed fervor. The girl screams at first, but when someone slaps her, the sound deteriorates into a whimper. Translators later confirm that the girl was repeatedly pleading to God for mercy.

The men finish shoveling in the earth around her, and as they pat it down and step back the crowd roars again. For a second nothing happens, but then one man raises a small stone above his head, pauses as the crowd appreciates it, and then throws it viciously at the girl’s head. Within seconds a hail of rock surrounds the small figure. The crowd, which is chanting a phrase later translated as “kill the demon in the name of God”, uses only stones smaller than a man’s thumb to ensure that the death will be long.

Within the first minute the girl’s wings are so broken it’s nearly impossible to see them anymore. The girl begins screaming again as the stones bombard her, but after one catches her in the jaw she is quiet. The minutes drag on and the girl slowly collapses; every time she twitches the crowd jeers and hurls another round of rock at her. There the video cuts off.

Janie: People had criticized and bullied Novas, of course, but nothing of this scale and brutality had ever been seen before. Though general world opinion had favored the Novas up to this point, dissidents—some of them more violent than others—had existed from the start. While many were simply uncomfortable with the idea of so much unregulated power running about, others considered the novas demons that needed to be destroyed at any cost. The horrific events of the previous video were soon surpassed, however, as everything started spiraling out of control.

[Janie fades from view as another series of video clips, a number of them involving protests, begins.]

Janie: Human rights organizations around the world, not to mention the general public, began clamoring for the offenders to be justly punished. The United Nations encouraged the officials of Azerbaijan, the country in which the video had been filmed, to turn over the criminals to the international court. Though the old government of Azerbaijan probably would have eagerly cooperated, a coup d’etat two years prior had left the country controlled by religious zealots so extreme that some scholars considered them worse than the Taliban. Within two days of the incident, Azerbaijani government released this official statement.

Quote:

This piece of video shows a man dressed in traditional Middle Eastern garb standing at a podium with a forest of microphones in his face. His message is short and to the point: “The abominations, or Novas as you call them, are not human and thus are not legally protected by such human rights provisions. As such, the country of Azerbaijan would prefer to keep its internal matters to itself until further notice. Thank you.” The man disappears with a flurry of reporters following him.

Janie: Though the United Nations normally would have pressed the issue further, the organization was already under fire at the time for corruption in one of its peacekeeping missions and did not take immediate action. Someone else, however, did.

[A picture of Azerbaijani countryside appears onto the screen, only to be replaced a moment later by an overhead shot of dense jungle. An series of snapshots of a teenage boy then begin passing across the screen.]

Janie: Admon Lemuelz, once a student at the first Galvan Nova Academy, made himself famous that fateful summer night, just three days after the stoning incident first aired. The previous citizens of Azerbaijan later related how plants had sprouted from every conceivable surface, slowly destroying buildings and trapping anyone that didn’t flee. By morning, the entire country was covered with the equivalent of a dense jungle, and the neighboring countries were brimming with human refugees. The next day, several new stations received this message from the Nova himself.

Quote:

[The screen changes to picture of a what looks to be a carving of a human in wood against a dark, indistinguishable background. The person is faintly recognizable as Admon.]

“Greetings to the United Nations, and to every human and nova who is a resident of this world. My name is Admon Lemuelz. I’m a nova. And I’m now the ruler of the newly established nation of Sathrae--I do hope you like the name, as I selected it myself.” He smirks a little before continuing. “You may have noticed sudden changes in the area that used to be Azerbaijan via your satellite photos and such. If there is any doubt in your minds as to my authority, well.

[Admon’s eyes flicker to something offscreen, and at this point the camera pans back to show the rest of the room, with vines growing all over it and with several humans hanging on the walls. They look fairly worse for the wear. Each of them, though alive, has multiple wounds and injuries, some of them still flowing with blood. The camera pans up to the face of one of the humans as Admon continues his speech.]

I suppose you may not recognize the former head of what used to be the country of Azerbaijan in his current state, but trust me, that’s him. I have replaced his regime with my own because part of the definition and responsibility of a government is to protect its borders and its citizens. They didn’t; therefore, they are no longer a government.

Earlier this week, the United Nations decided to imply by their distinct lack of action that Novas were not technically humans and therefore not protected by those same laws. Well, I’ve decided to ‘respond’ to that little sentiment of theirs. Humans are not recognized as a species worthy of protection in my country. They are the same to us as monkeys are to them. They are creatures to be kept in confinement and used for experiments.

Certain people in this world are saying that the Novas don’t deserve human rights. And that’s correct. We don’t. We deserve much more. In fact, we’re superior. The United Nations can make whatever declarations they want on that matter, and, as I have no intention of joining the United Nations, I must say I’m perfectly fine with whatever action they may just manage to decide to take. It’s not like the threat of sanctions from the UN strikes fear into the hearts of millions.

[Admon smirks for a moment before drawing himself up for the next part of his speech.]

Now, onto my declarations. I call the following “The Null Manifesto.”

Homo novus, I know your worth, I sense your frustration and I have seen your destiny; hear me now.

I am Admon Lemuelz, and I, like yourselves, am a member of Homo novus: the One Race. My brothers and sisters--you who have evolved the same as I--this is your call as members of Homo novus to reject the shackles that baseline humanity has ventured to place upon us. We have unknowingly and willingly yoked ourselves to their closed-minded, simplistic morality and shortsighted, atavistic agendas. We have volunteered to sell ourselves short!

I see inside each and every one of us the potential to change reality as we know it. Potential that is, unfortunately, being squandered on the impulses and desires of creatures with neither the right nor the virtue to edict legislation for their evolutionary superiors. If you choose to live under the law of Homo sapiens, you choose to waste your power and purpose on needless adherence to rules that no longer apply to you or your people. The question must be asked: why force yourself into the role of pawn when you should be the king?

The members of Homo novus, also referred to as "novas", are a species separate from Homo sapiens. The very nature of Homo novus is intrinsically different from that of its baseline predecessors; this is a fact that is recognized biologically, physically, mentally, and by all other quantifiable means as self-evident. And yet still, human science and the self-deluding propaganda of Galvan and its publicity whores tell us that we, who are a literal quantum leap up the evolutionary chain, an incarnate god, belong in place alongside the baseline form from which we evolved.

Regulations and laws enacted for the good of Homo sapiens are too easily subverted and misinterpreted to abuse the rights of novas, who are required by destiny to attain their full potential--a goal impossible while abiding by strictures set by beings who are not one's peers and who cannot accurately judge what is "ethical" or "moral" for anything other than their own species.

As such, the laws and governing bodies established for the purpose of directing Homo sapiens must be considered inapplicable to Homo novus. By their own declarations, their laws do not apply to us. I’m simply obliging their wishes in this. By mere logic, it becomes impossible and absurd to require that any nova follow such human laws. We are not human, and human laws, no matter how well meaning, cannot reasonably apply to any being of a higher evolutionary stance. Until a common governing body--composed entirely of novas qualified to hold authority--is recognized by the majority of the nova population, it is the duty of every Homo novus to govern himself or herself as he or she sees fit. Just as it is preposterous to ask humans to abide by the strictures of chimpanzee society, any attempt to force a nova to abide by the laws of human society must be seen as an attack on that nova’s rights.

[Admon’s voice and body language grow more animated as he continues.]

Be the rare individuals that you were created to be. Realize what it is to be a member of the One Race!

Explore yourselves, your beliefs, and your motivations. Learn from your past and move on, and in moving on, take your place in the world as a living conduit of will. And, just as importantly, help your brothers and sisters of the One Race to do the same.

Some will vilify you for this. You will be called 'monster'. 'Aberrant'. 'Revolutionary'. Even 'inhuman', though the people who label you as such will have no idea how right they are.
People will fear and hate you for your power, but never lose your clarity! This is who we are.

There is nothing wrong with acting inhuman or superior when we so obviously are. To allow or encourage any nova to wallow in the base and rapine pleasures of Homo sapiens is the very definition of pointless waste of a rare and valuable resource, and is the most maddeningly flagrant waste of potential imaginable. By squandering your gifts on petty baseline desires and vices, you mire yourself deeper in human ideology and morality, making your personal ascension all the more difficult. As the marvels, monsters, and portents of a bold new age, it is both your birthright and your destiny to forge your own path, exclusive of any crippling or archaic influence. Do whatever you must, so long as you never cease doing, exploring and discovering what it is to be a member of the One Race.

We are our own nation; to be nova is to transcend the human shell from which we evolved. We wish only to live freely as members of the superior race that we are. Why is that so revolutionary? We exist beyond human comprehension, and while we have yet to define our own laws, we must have the space and freedom necessary to chart our own course. Only those novas who are too lazy or too comfortable to think for themselves, to judge and regulate their own behavior accordingly, obey baseline laws.

True members of the One Race sense their own laws within them; things are forbidden to them that a common human will do any day of the year, and other actions are allowed to them that might be generally despised.

Each nova must stand on his or her own feet. I beseech all members of Homo novus to follow the path that will take them to a better understanding of what and who they are. This will require courage, but the chick that fears the outside world dies in its egg. To be born, the One Race must destroy its egg and, in time, fly. For this we are slandered, but we cannot claim surprise. Those few powerful individuals with courage and character have always seemed sinister to the rest. Anything that threatens the calm in which the average person lives is immediately termed "revolutionary".

The humans have become nervous because they realize that with the coming of the One Race the rules by which they have lived are no longer valid. The labels they affix to us are of no concern. We cannot and will not apologize for a difference this fundamental. We must explore what it is to be nova, not for the betterment of the human race, but for the betterment of the nova race.

Perhaps there are some novas who prefer to stay with the human herd for the warmth it provides. I say: obtain your warmth from equals. Humans do not require the companionship of monkeys, and likewise, novas do not require the companionship of baselines. We are destined to make a strange and terrible journey, and this we cannot do alone. While each nova must walk his or her own path, we must gather and share our knowledge and our companionship.

We are at the gates of a glorious new age, and we must take the first steps towards our destiny; to do this we must unite. Homo sapiens had its chance -- it is now the age of the One Race.

Whosoever would be creator, must first destroy, and in the age of the One Race, a terrible angel is loosed, preparing for his grand creation…

And the first of the terrible angels is Me. I’m declaring my new country to be open to all Novas who wish sanctuary. And furthermore, any governments who might choose to attempt to interfere had better hope they manage to kill me in the first shot . Otherwise, I’ll just have to remake my country somewhere else. Probably the home of whatever politician chooses to attack me.

[Admon’s eyes start to glow green with a menacing glare, and the plants around him writhe as if they’re angry and frustrated, an extension of his own feelings]

And it takes a lot to kill me.

Now I also have a further message for Novas. Do not act out in vengeance toward humans for the tragic events that occurred here a week ago. The people that were responsible for that have been judged and found wanting. Look within yourself, see what destiny has in store for you and then reach that destiny. Do not be held back by petty human concerns. Be who you are.

Janie: The response to this--declaration--was huge.

[Pictures of rioters begin flashing across the screen.]

Many humans began demanding that the novas pay for what Admon had done, and the “baselines” grew only angrier when some novas actually answered Admon’s call and started travelling to his new country.

Several countries were so incensed by Admon’s boldness that they launched attacks on the new country, using everything from ground troops through the jungle to deploying fighter attacks from helicopters along with a slew of bombing runs. Napalm was even considered before being dismissed as too environmentally damaging. Some people even brought up the possibility of nuclear warfare. There are no specific reasons for the failure of those missions, but nothing seemed to work. Admon’s ability to defend his new territory was, for the moment anyway, not in question.

At the same time, however, people from all over the world began thinking that Novas were a danger to society and demanded that governments implement systems of registration and restrictions. Some of the more vocal groups asserted that Novas should be treated as weapons--armed and dangerous. When it was revealed that Admon had been educated at one of the Galvan Academies, the demand for policing and government interference in the schools themselves also grew.

It was rumored at the time that there were some major internal problems at the original Galvan Academy, but none of those rumors could ever be substantiated. Several people claimed that parts of the school looked as if they'd suffered damage, though if so the area was cleaned up in a matter of days. No one has ever come forward with more details on this matter, despite several inquiries.

However, despite all of the hype, anti-nova sentiment was not strong in the United States until someone tipped the scales once again. Many of you are probably already familiar with this now infamous video from the Governor of New York.

Quote:

[This clip is of an older man dressed in a suit and speaking from behind a professional-looking desk.]

Good afternoon. I'm pleased to announce that tonight the Nova Detention Act becomes the law of the land for my beloved state of New York. Though the debate on this subject has been volatile to say the least, I am acting now in good conscious by signing this bill into law. The recent actions of one Admon Lemuelz have convinced me and many others that novas are a threat to the very fabric of our society. Thus, each one in the state of New York is to be detained indefinitely until the full extent of their powers and by extension the danger they pose is thoroughly researched. I know that Novas can do good, and that they have indeed done good, but I believe this potential is currently far outweighed by the danger of the abilities they possess. I know this step may be seen as unduly harsh, but I refuse to allow the citizens of my state to live in fear. And I refuse to walk through the day afraid of what some Nova may do if they don’t like a policy of mine. Thus, I hereby sign the Nova Detention Act to preserve the security of the state of New York and the safety of the citizens within it.

Janie: Even as the Governor Adkins led this live news conference--and practical declaration of war on the Novas, in the opinion of some--several TV news crews that had apparently been tipped off beforehand filmed the ‘detention’ of several young novas.

[Janie fades out of the picture as this clip of the arrests is replayed.]

Quote:

The screen follows swat team as it moves into a rather drab-looking school and surrounds a set unsuspecting teens without warning. Two of the teens, one boy and one girl, react in shock but put up no resistance as they’re cuffed, shackled and led into a large van. One tries to flee by running and taking to the air, only to be brought down by several tranquilizer shots that leave the boy barely conscious after crashing into the pavement. He can be seen struggling feebly as he’s handcuffed, shackled, and then carried into a van by the swat members. In the final clip, a swat team busts into a home where a family is having dinner and immediately surround a young boy, who is probably no older than twelve or thirteen. The boy, crying in fright, calls out for his parents, who are kept at bay by the swat team with guns as they lead him away. For a moment he starts to glow, only to stop as he’s filled with tranquilizers.

Janie: The mayor’s actions seemed to only harden the lines dividing those that supported novas from those who didn’t. People who had called for calm and reasonableness regarding novas now protested this treatment, and the same people who lashed out against novas hailed the bravery of the governor and began championing Adkins for president in the upcoming elections. The federal government called an emergency session regarding the new legislation but deadlocked on whether or not it was appropriate, and what else to do about the situation.

The stalemate had been building for two days when it was quite suddenly broken. The governor was attending a banquet at the statehouse to celebrate his new popularity and schmooze with some campaign contributors. The following was caught quite clearly on video because of the amount of press in the area to cover his anti-nova stance.

Quote:

[The picture is being shot from outside the statehouse in the early evening, evidently by one of the news crews unable to get inside. A motorcycle pulls up right to where the valets are, and a slim female hops off the bike a moment later; as she takes off her helmet her blonde hair can clearly be seen. The camera gets a very clear picture of her face--the young woman is very pretty, but her attire--jeans and tank top--makes it obvious that she does not belong at this affair. The nearby security guards, used to dealing uninvited guests, intercept her quickly.

“Miss,” the first one begins, “this is a private affair, and unless you have an invitation we must ask you to leave the premises.”

She brushes past them without a word and heads to the building, acting as if they don’t exist. The security guards move to intercept her again, and this time they stand their ground when she attempts to pass them. The young woman looks at them coolly and in an unnaturally calm voice says, “Get out of my way. I have to speak to the governor.”

“If you wish to speak with the governor personally, you must set up an appointment with his secretary. He also maintains a post office box for the public to send in their feedback.” The guard smiles stiffly, as if wondering whether he and his partner were going to have to get more aggressive in order to keep this girl from barging in.

Meanwhile, the young woman is still giving them a cool stare when her clothes suddenly shift to some sort of metallic armor. Before anyone has a chance to react, she reaches out and grabs both men by the front of their shirts, yanks them around and tosses them a good twenty yards into the street behind her.

Still calm, though with a viciousness that wasn’t present before, the young woman glances briefly over her shoulder to snap, “I don’t repeat myself to baselines,” before continuing her march towards the statehouse. One of the thrown men manages to shoot a round of bullets at her back, only to duck as they ricochet back off. The other guards, having seen their comrades thrown into the street, take one look at her as she marched towards them and retreat to call in some backup, preferably backup with metal-piercing tranquilizers.

The news crew, apparently possessing more reporter’s zeal than common sense, follows her into the statehouse as she marches directly toward the main hall. The young woman then forces aside the people standing in front of the main door and goes right into the main room; a flurry of activity and protest at the disruption follow her as she heads straight for the governor’s podium. No one, at that point, knows quite what to make of her armor, and few of them are smart enough to run.

Stepping away from the podium, the governor straightens his suit jacket and gives her a careful look. “And just what do you think you’re doing, young lady?” he asks quietly.

She responds as she stops just a few feet in front of the podium. “Governor Adkins, you have declared war on me and my kind. I am here to inform you that we won’t all just accept your suppression of us with such equanimity. So you want to arrest all novas because you think they’re a danger to yourself and society? Not one of the kids you so bravely arrested is anywhere near as dangerous as me. You want to declare war on us? Fine. But I will not stand by and let you arrest novas simply because they are superior to you. You wanted your war, well, congratulations. You’ve got it.”

Without warning she leaps at the governor, giving him really no time to react as she grabs his throat with one armored, taloned hand and his shoulder with the other. She speaks very clearly and coldly. “You’ve fired the first salvo, and now I’ll take the first blood.” Before he has a chance to reply, there is a sickening sound of flesh and blood separating as she rips out his throat.

The entire crowd break out into gasps of horror as people retch from the sight of the governor writhing around on the floor in a growing pool of his own blood. The young woman then turns to the news crew’s camera and points the hand that is covered in the governor’s blood at its lens. She seems completely oblivious to the people stampeding out the door in fear.

“My name is Adriana Estacado. If you baselines are serious about a war, then come and get me. Stop me if you can.”

Saying that, she turns and heads for the door, She is completely unhurried as she heads back outside, the governor now dead and unmoving on the floor behind her. Sirens are already approaching in the distance as she mounts her bike and drives off through the crowd of people that have no interest in getting in her way.

Janie: It didn’t take long for people to find out where she went, though. Twenty minutes after the death of the governor, a distress call went out from the facility that was holding the novas who had been imprisoned. By the time back up squads of policemen arrived (followed by astute news crews) there was nothing left that they could back up. It looked like the place had been hit by a hurricane.

The four novas that had been taken were gone, and the bodies of the over two dozen guards that had been stationed there had been viciously ripped apart. The few surviving guards were gibbering messes, babbling about demons to anyone who would listen.

This incident sparked a whole series of events in which newly erupted novas and novas that had been in hiding suddenly acted out against the government. There were novas robbing banks, novas robbing stores, and novas purposely causing public disturbances and mass destruction of public property.

[A series of images of the above flicker across the screen as Janie continues talking.]

Janie: Pro-nova sentiment in the United States dropped drastically. It seemed as if every time you turned around there was something on the news about a Nova breaking the law and then getting away unpunished. People that had been quiet before now called for immediate Nova sanctions and imprisonment. Voices defending the Novas were now few and far between. Before long, motions were being filed in the federal government for all levels of Nova sanctions.

Negative opinion had been barraging the students at the Galvan Academies from all sides for some time when demonstrators started showing up outside the schools. That’s when Galvan acted. And when they did, they took everyone by surprise.

It was remarkable how fast things changed. It started without warning. Suddenly, novas that were acting out were confronted by other novas. These novas were dressed in costumes that ranged from bright and colorful, to dark and single shaded, but all of them had a logo somewhere on their costume of two T’s.

The costumed novas were very well trained, and in each case--and there were nearly twenty of them all over the world that first day--the result was the same: an unconscious nova, with minimal to no property damage. The odd costumed group even showed up after a minor earthquake hit California to help evacuate people and search for anyone in need of assistance. These novas seemed to be everywhere, putting a stop to the excesses of other novas and lending their assistance wherever it seemed to be needed. Twenty-four hours after it began, the Galvan Corporation called a press conference.

Quote:

The camera shows a dark-skinned young woman in glasses and an elegant skirt and suit jacket standing behind a plain brown podium. On the front of the podium is a deep blue circle with a gold border and matching gold "G" in the middle. There is a dark red curtain behind her and the sound of chatter emanating from the room. A few flashes appear as people take pictures of her. She clears her throat for silence.

"Hello, my name is Lindsey Hamilton. Before I begin, I would like to thank all of you for coming. I know that, due to the highly reprehensible actions of Novas worldwide recently, that being in a small space with a high concentration of them is not considered conducive to a long life." Lindsey shakes her head, momentarily closing her eyes to emphasize this action, before opening them and continuing. "However, this isn't the case at all. What has been done, in the name of being a nova, is nothing less than despicable. Many of us feel this way, so we've decided to do something about it."

Lindsey makes a gesture with her hand, and the curtain is pulled aside to startled murmurs. Mounted on the wall behind the curtain there is a large circular emblem with two T’s at its center, one bright red and one basic blue. The two letters, joined across the top, are set on a blue-black starry backdrop. Behind Lindsey, there are seven people standing on either side of the emblem. Two are in suits, wearing badges displaying the emblems, and others are wearing costumes that range from boring to vaguely alarming, with the emblems in strategic places on their costumes. "I am pleased to introduce Team Tomorrow."

Lindsey smiles. "These are only a small portion of the novas who have made it their responsibility to see that other novas who feel the need to abuse their powers are dealt with. We have decided that enough was enough and that it’s time to make things right. Novas are not meant to abuse their powers in the way that they have been recently. Novas that choose to do so are arrested and confined in cells that are made specifically to house them, around guards who can handle them if they become a problem. We then give them the instruction they need.

“But Team Tomorrow is not just for policing novas. We’re a group of novas dedicated to making this world a better place by doing whatever needs to be done. We plan to help in whatever way we can, that everyone may successfully survive and prosper in these tumultuous times. Are there any questions?"

Several hands shoot into the air and Lindsey scans the crowd, before pointing to one on the far left. The reporter stands up. "How can we be sure that these 'power-abusing' novas won't simply be released to continue what they've been doing with a better idea of how to abuse their powers?"

Lindsey smiles. "We confine them until a verdict determining their innocence or guilt is reached. They're usually guilty," she adds with a touch of sadness, "And at that point, we rehabilitate them. We do teach them to use their powers more effectively, yes, but we also teach them the ethics of using that power. 'With great power comes great responsibility', you know?" A smattering of chuckles accompany her statement. "Next question?"

A different reporter makes himself heard. "How are they confined?"

Lindsey nods, "That varies greatly, depending on the nova. Those who work best with heat are kept cold, those who move a lot are kept still, things like that. We will be allowing the government to send in whatever agencies and inspectors they wish to verify that we are doing a good job, and so that they know in exactly what fashion novas are being kept and how they’re being treated. Next question?"

"How do we know that Team Tomorrow won't become like Admon Lemuelz or Adriana Estacado of Galvan Nova Academy?" There are a few assenting murmurs at this question.

Lindsey flinches and bows her head. Her voice is pained and a little muffled when she speaks. "Very good question." She takes a deep breath and lifts her head. "There is no denying that both of them are alumni of Galvan Nova Academy. However, so am I. So are they," she says, gesturing at the angered Team Tomorrow members behind her. "All members of Team Tomorrow are Galvan Nova Academy alumni, or will be soon. However, Admon and Adriana represent a very small percentage of our membership. They display that, just like anyone else, people can and do become drunk on power and misuse it."

Lindsey bows her head again, looking greatly grieved, "They were classmates of mine. I knew them. In fact, they were among the first graduates of Galvan Nova Academy." She lifts her head and squares her shoulders. Her expression hardens, "But what they've done is wrong. I will admit that many Novas agreed with why Adriana did what she did, and have no shame including myself in that equation. I'm also willing to assume that there were many non-Novas who wished they could have done something themselves. Governor Adkins wronged us, but I don’t believe he deserved that fate. He was afraid, panicked and acted irrationally; however, I’m sure that with a little time the courts would have declared his actions unconstitutional and freed the novas. Adriana had no right to assume that she was the one meant to judge him and had no right to carry it to that extreme.” Her voice softens, "She was right, however, when she told him that those he took were of no danger. They would probably have been taken into the Academy very soon, or may have even developed their powers on their own without harming anyone."

"As for Admon," Lindsey says, sneering. "He's an example of what novas are never meant to be. We are not superior. We are not gods. We are novas, and if that means we have powers that others do not, then it means that we are responsible for the safety of those who might suffer from our powers." Her voice is firm when she asks, "Next question?"

Yet another reporter stands, "Why Team Tomorrow?"

Lindsey smirks. "Because Super Friends was taken." There is a moment of shocked silence, then laughter erupts around the room. Lindsey chuckles, and then continues when the laughter has died down. "No, we chose Team Tomorrow because we are looking towards tomorrow. We want novas and everyone else to be able to get along, to interact well, as we did before our ranks soured."

A reporter in the back stands up and shouts out her own question, "Is this government funded? Should people expect their taxes to raise to pay for this protection?"

Lindsey shakes her head lightly, a smile on her lips, "No. Team Tomorrow is funded by the Galvan Corporation, just as the school is. And each member is an employee of Galvan and thus receives a tidy salary."

She is interrupted by the reporter before she can continue. "How much?"

Chuckling again, she shakes her head, "I'm not sure throwing around numbers will help, but rest assured that every member of Team Tomorrow is suitably paid to take care of themselves comfortably as well as any family they may have."

Lindsey glances at her watch, and then looks out over the crowd, "I'm afraid I've only time for one more question." There is a swelling of sound and Lindsey points at a reporter, who quickly stands up as the noise dies down. "Miss Hamilton, you've included yourself among the Novas. What is your power?"

Lindsey gives her a mysterious smile, "If I told you-"

"You'd have to kill me?" interrupts the reporter with a nervous smile.

Lindsey laughs, "Oh, no, but you wouldn’t be much impressed." She giggles, dropping her professionalism for a moment, then points to the sides of her neck, "I can breath underwater." The camera zooms in on her neck, revealing thin lines along either side of her neck, then zooms back out as she waves and says, "Have a nice day." Lindsey then walks out, the Team Tomorrow members following her off-stage, as a barrage of questions follow.

Janie: With that, things began to change again. Whenever a newly erupted nova acted out, Team Tomorrow was there as fast as possible to put a stop to it. It didn’t take long for the human public to adore these heroes. Team Tomorrow was a group of novas who stood up for them, who helped them, and who could be called in at dangerous situations to lend a hand.

That’s not to say the public adores all novas now. The novas that aren’t affiliated with Team Tomorrow are usually the ones that are most disruptive, and there are still plenty such novas at large. Admon still has his country and still refuses to admit any humans. Adriana is the FBI’s second most wanted criminal (behind only Admon), and she has yet to be found or brought to justice. There are rumors of her being spotted in any number of different countries.

Then there's the Devia Corporation. This corporation has just revealed itself to the public and started accepting applicants from novas not in their core group. They're, to put it quite bluntly, a mercenary organization. They supply nova help for your problem for a price. Need a body guard? Contact them. Need financial advice from a hyper intelligent nova? Contact them. They're very open about what they do, and they claim that they don't break any laws. Though with money and a mercenary corporation, you never quite know.

Clashes between the members of Team Tomorrow and those that don’t quite agree with their mission statement have occurred a few times, but for now there seems to be a truce, or at least a cessation of hostilities. But both sides know it’s only temporary.

What else is going to happen in the days to come? We can only hold our breaths and wait and see. One thing is for sure though: the changes haven’t stopped.

krome_devil

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krome_devil

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Posted: Fri Jun 15, 2007 8:39 pm

General Information

As you may all remember, Galvan the first was a school-setting roleplay with its main focus on interpersonal relationships and such. This second roleplay with have the same focus—just with a slightly more dynamic background to it… Also in contrast to the first, this roleplay is set six years later, and both applicants using characters from the old Galvan and completely new applicants should be using adult characters, preferably eighteen or older unless you get special permission to be younger. These characters should also be somehow affiliated with Team Tomorrow, Admon, or Devia, again unless given special permission (which is rather unlikely). Lastly, keep in mind that some characters should already be familiar with their chosen setting and any coworkers, as follows:

Team Tomorrow: Characters that have been with the team a month or more preferred, as we will be able to bring them into the main action right away. Having a few (limit about five) newbies is okay, but they will be restricted by the need to train for some time before they're allowed to go on missions.

Devia Corporation: All characters should have at least a month's experience working for the corporation, as they will all be part of the same mission-ready team. Limit about five or six characters. (Sidenote, quality control will be a notch higher because of this limit.)

Admon's group: For this section, we want both completely new recruits and oldbies who really know what's going on.

The previous restriction is because of the way we’re going to start the roleplay. You may argue for exemptions, but it’s unlikely we'll grant them.

Said characters will then be let loose to interact with everyone and anyone while my lovely partners and I throw plot twists at you.

The Partners

Now, some of you may be wondering who my partners are. They are, cue dramatic music, our very own Merlinic Matrices and Pansa!

The three of us have equal power, input and plot control. This doesn’t mean that if you get an answer you don’t like from one of us you can go running to one of the other two--we do talk.

Merlinic is the Psychotic Organizer of Doom who is in charge of all things grammar and continuity related. Which means she went through all the stuff for G2 with the writing equivalent of a nit comb.
Pansa is the Psychotic Plotter of Doom who is in charge of the complaint department and assuring quality characters.

A Note From M&P

M: So I'm going to kill the first person that makes us go over an application three or four times and then drops out after their second post
P: You can take out those ones if I can take out everyone with fantastical names and mystical beauty.
M: Aww, but those are my favorites
M: *favorites to shred, that is
P: Well...We could split those and I could just go after everyone who continues to submit sub-par applications without the changes we oh so specifically asked for?
M: Mmm, true. I tend to be too nice when I get tired and all. By the way, I came up with a new word
P: S'okay. I get meaner when I get tired. We even each other out. What's the word?
M: Emowart
M: For all those kids with the dead parents and no personality
P: ...Oh my god I love you.
M: Yay XD
P: Listen up kiddies, you see the word "Emowart" on our reply to you and you're probably going to have to do a massive make over.
M: Or the word Mary Sue, or anything about 'this doesn't make sense', "I don't like this', or 'I don't think this is going to work', for that matter
P: Or "what were you thinking?" and "it's highly suggested that you change".
M: "Highly, highly suggested"
P: "Scratch suggested, demanded!"
M: Nevermind if we just outright call it bad.
P: Sounds good to me.
M: So basically, don't give us shoddy overused stuff, and if you go through the trouble of applying you'd better damn well play XD.
P: And...That's the last of our note. Have fun!

Rules

1. First and most importantly, obey the Terms of Service you agreed to when signing up for an account on Gaia. As such, cybering will be confined to messenger services outside of Gaia where what you do won't break the rules.

2. You're not a god, (though some of you may think that) and you can and may die. If you die fair and square then you die. Unless someone can give a DAMN good explanation, then you STAY dead. If you die then you can always make a new character, however no one is allowed to kill another person's character without first discussing it with them, you must both agree out of character, for either of you to die.

I will add a caveat to this too. If you pick a fight with someone, and in the actual fight they end up killing your character, that will be considered consent. (If someone decides to abuse this rule then they will be asked to leave the roleplay.) Good roleplayers can handle dying and playing another character.

3. Try and make sure that you remain active within in the roleplay. Very VERY important, that is—you don’t want to drag other players down with you when you suddenly disappear.

4. Whether you're out saving someone, doing paperwork, training your powers, (yes you still do that) talking with someone, fighting with someone or sitting and having a cup of coffee with another character, BE DESCRIPTIVE. The more description the better the roleplay will be in general for everyone.

5. You are to respect EVERYONE out of character. In character if you don't like someone that's fine just make sure the insults and stuff stay reasonable. If I see someone taking things personally they will be ejected from the roleplay.

6. DO NOT POST YOUR APPLICATION IN THIS THREAD!!! When you make a character and fill out the profile you need to post it in the Application thread that will be made specifically for this roleplay in the Review subforum. This will give me and other people a chance to look at your character and let me know you read the rules and such. In the history of your character, I want somewhere in there to tell me what your favorite movie is so that I'll know you've read this section. I'll then post your profile in the accepted character section, once it's accepted of course.

7: If you make a character please play it. Let it grow and develop as the roleplay goes. Don't remain static. Don't make a character just to have one, and don't make a character you don't intend to actually develop like a real one.

Posted: Fri Jun 15, 2007 8:39 pm

Profile Skeleton

No Emowarts, Mary Sues or otherwise annoying characters allowed!

Gaia Name: Just so erryone knows who you be.

Name: (First name, middle name and last name. And no ridiculous names. If your character is a Caucasian female from Ohio she should not be named ‘Ling-Ling’. And no fantasy names please!)

Age: (Your characters can be any age, young or older, though I would be careful about making a character too young or too old. If you want to roleplay something younger than 18 or older than 35, you better have a really good reason for it.)

Alignment: (Devia Corporation, with Admon or with Team Tomorrow?)

Special Abilities: (These are your powers. Anything too powerful is a big no, and too many powers is also going to get a thumbs down. Go for something unique that’s going to be fun to play and fun for people to interact with! And if your power isn’t a specific power but presented as “I can do magik!” don’t bother. =] )

Codename: (Pretty clear. Avoid clichés or things that make no sense.)

Costume: (Crime fighting outfit of course.)

Appearance: (Make it detailed, make it good -- give your character amazing beauty and glowing eyes and color changing hair and oh my, I might kill you. =) Keep things realistic. If your character does have something like green hair it better either be dyed or a direct (and clear) consequence of their mutation. And please, don’t just post a picture or say “look at my avatar”--that stuff doesn’t fly.)

Sexual Orientation: (Homosexual, Heterosexual or Bisexual)

Personality: (Give us a real person here! This is one of the most important parts, so be sure to put in some detail. This part is basically the essence of your character, and you should be working on getting to know them inside and out if you don’t already – get it down! It makes your character much easier to play.)

History: (Your characters past, their family, how their powers erupted, why they joined the team they did and any other important moments in their life should go here with oodles and oodles of detail. Also tell their reactions to the recent events in the world, and why they joined the team they did.)

Sample Roleplay: (That’s right, we want a sample roleplay. Show us you can actually post with your character!)

[RANT]FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY PUT SPACING IN YOUR HISTORY! I do NOT want to see another application that has one single long a** paragraph that is filled with 15 sentences or more >_< I won't even bother to read something like that. SPACING PEOPLE! MULTIPLE PARAGRAPHS and the ENTER key are your friend! *personal pet peeve* [/RANT]

If you wish to have your character have a secret or something that you don't wish to put in the profile, since the profiles WILL be posted, discuss this with krome_devil.

And definitely, definitely don’t forget to pay attention to the rules and miscellaneous information when constructing and posting your profile.

So get writing peoples! We wanna see some cool characters! XD

[b]Gaia Name:[/b]
[b]Name:[/b]
[b]Age:[/b]
[b]Alignment:[/b]
[b]Special Abilities:[/b]
[b]Codename:[/b]
[b]Costume:[/b]
[b]Appearance:[/b]
[b]Sexual Orientation:[/b]
[b]Personality:[/b]
[b]History:[/b]
[b]Sample Roleplay:[/b]

krome_devil

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krome_devil

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Posted: Fri Jun 15, 2007 8:40 pm

Accepted Team Tomorrow Applications

Cobalt

Name: Eileen Brigid Sullivan
Age: 22
Alignment: Team Tomorrow
Special Abilities: Eileen's eyes are dramatically different from a normal person's - she can change the way she sees the world at will. Her vision can switch from "normal" to things we usually wear goggles or use machines for - nightvision, infrared, x-ray, heat sensing. She can also use vision modes ranging from microscopic (to about the cellular level) and binocular (think average backyard telescope) to stranger ones, like motion-sensing only. Combinations, like telescopic night-vision, is very difficult and makes her eyes hurt after a few moments, and can give her migraines for days if used too much. As far as she can tell, single vision modes can last indefinitely, though it has taken a while to develop the accuracy of some - x-ray, magnified, and telescopic all have taken months of slow, careful practice to get to a useful level, though she is still trying to expand them.

Current list of vision modes: normal (default), nightvision, infrared, ultraviolet, x-ray, heat-sensing, color filters (any color), brightness filter, contrast filter, magnified/microscopic, binocular/telescopic, motion-sensing, and blacklight.

Many people have asked her if she can see through walls like Superman in the comic books. She cannot. This basically would require the atoms in the way to move out of the way, and she cannot alter the physical state of things around her, just how she perceives it.

Codename: Lux (pronounced "lukes" - means "light" in Latin)

Costume: She wears vaguely form-fitting, black crop pants (mid-calf), fitted 3/4-sleeve black shirt with a high mock-turtle collar and the TT logo on her left shoulder, a dark red belt with one small pocket and a couple of loops for storing small things, black gloves with a double-layered wrist strap, and black and dark red tennis shoes. She has long-sleeve shirts and pants for colder weather.

Appearance: She is 5'7", 130 lbs, and reasonably in shape. Short, thick red hair sits on her head and usually decides to do its own thing. She usually lets it, unless she needs to look nice for something, in which case she attacks it with gel and mousse. Freckles adorn very light skin - she is very obviously Irish. Her face is delicately oval-shaped, with a rather pointy chin. Her teeth are straight when she smiles, but her nose is slightly off-kilter, as if it was broken once. Her fingers are long and dextrous, as are her toes. She is right-handed.

The most unusual thing about her is her eyes. They are completely white - she has no pupils, because she alters the cells in her eyes to change her vision; her normally-shaped eyeballs appear to have no features whatsoever. Her mutated biology has decided that a blank slate is easiest to write on, it seems. Since her eyes are often disturbing those who are not used to it (and sometimes to those who are, too), she usually wears sunglasses. When she is shifting vision modes, her eyes appear to swirl slightly, though usually she closes her eyes to concentrate on the change.

Casual wear - Comfortable is key. Loose jeans, cotton jerseys, sweatshirts, tank tops and capris when it's warm, soft turtleneck sweaters when it's cold. Her favorite colors to wear are green and purple, and sometimes dark red, along with various neutral colors.

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Personality: Eileen is positive and good-natured, but not hyper. Rarely does she get angry, and is far more likely to be simply annoyed than angry. However, if something gets her pissed off enough, her Irish temper flares. She hates to do that, though, and does what she can do avoid it, because she is afraid of lashing out in her anger. It must be noted, too, that the Bible says to love everyone, and Eileen tries to follow that. Even if she does get angry at someone, she can usually step back (after some cooling down) and understand why that person did whatever it was that made her angry.

Saying that, though, it must be acknowledged that she still doesn't quite understand why people like Admon and Adriana did what they did. She doesn't really hate them, or really anyone, but she usually just feels more of a sadness instead, that they can't see that God meant them to forgive instead of kill. In essence, she believes that life is sacred, no matter whose; she's somewhat of a pacifist, though she has come to understand that sometimes violence is necessary - but killing is still a terrible sin. She is religious - a good Catholic Irishwoman - but not fanatical, and she will not try to convert you. However, she would not turn down an opportunity to discuss it.

She loves to help other people, to the detriment of herself sometimes, but she doesn't mind. She absoultely LOVES animals, and had plans on becoming a biologist and working at a zoo - until per powers erupted, that is. She still hopes to do that one day. She also hopes to get married and have kids someday, too, but at this point in her life she has other things to worry about. When God think she is ready, He will send her the man she will marry.

Around people, she is usually relaxed and calm, and likes to meet new friends. She is not necessarily shy, but she likes to be unobtrusive, and is often the one friends go to to help smooth over a dispute. Harmony amongst the people around her is important (thus why she tries not to hate people - hate causes discord, and if she can find a way not to hate them, she will).

History: Her family immigrated from Ireland to Chicago when she was almost two years old. She has a younger brother, Liam, 12. Her parents, Muirne and Emmet, are both classical pianists. They are an internationally-touring piano duo, and thus were fairly often gone for extended periods of time. Eileen and her brother would stay with a nanny while they were gone, and when they were home, often the two were on their own while their parents practiced 8 hours a day. This did not disrupt their family's connection, however. Her parents were loving and caring, and made sure not to neglect their children despite their busy schedules.

In part to keep the children busy, and in part to give them some company, the Sullivan family always had lots of pets. Cats, dogs, birds, fish, rabbits, turtles, girbils, ferrets, snakes, you name it, they probably had one at some point. Obviously, this is where Eileen gets her love of animals. She volunteered at the local animal shelters for many years before coming to Galvan, and even had a summer job at the Lincoln Park Zoo.

Her powers erupted at the age of 18 when she was searching the living room for an escaped mouse. It was her brother's favorite pet (he was eight at the time), and he was constantly wailing about how the snake was probably going to get out and eat him. Eileen closed her eyes and willed her brother to either shut up or that she could find the mouse right away so he would shut up. When she opened her eyes, her vision had blurred and she only saw sharp colors in strange patterns, and she blinked a few times. When she could see clearly again, her vision had switched to heat-sensing. She froze for several seconds in complete shock. When Liam pulled on her sleeve asking what was wrong, did she see the mouse?, she snapped back out of it, and realized she had been watching the mouse as it sat behind the bookshelf. But she also realized, after a moment, that what she was watching was the heat signature the mouse was giving off - her brother next to her was various shades of yellow, orange, red, pink and white, and the mouse was a blob of orange in a field of blues and greens.

Eileen closed her eyes again, and silently chanted to herself: I can see normally, I can see normally, I can see normally... When she ventured to open her eyes, she was seeing normally again, much to her relief. She turned to her brother and shakily assured him the mouse was behind the bookshelf.

She had heard about the Novas, though at that time the general public sentiment was still favorable. Her brother noticed the change in her eyes first. It was a gradual shrinking of her pupils - which soon disappeared alltogether. At first, her ability was unstable. Sometimes she would wake up at 3am with nightvision because she need to use the restroom, for example. Eventually her ability stabilized, at which point her eyes had become completely white. It was still terrifying, but Liam kept insisting that her ability was "way cool" and ran around the house wearing "Eileen Goggles" so he could see strange things like her.

Liam's innocence and enthusiasm won her over; she loves her brother dearly, even though they still fight like Irish siblings, and his wholehearted approval calmed her, and even made her smile sometimes. She initially had hated being different, but it was such a subtle ability that she could get by in life without much notice, though her eyes eventually became too arresting. Her parents, who were very supportive, suggested sunglasses.

When the Novas began to shake things up in the worldwide scene, she was revulsed. Her Catholic upbringing told her to love everyone, and that to kill others was a sin. She decided instead that they had been given a gift from God, that it served a purpose, and what greater purpose was there than to serve others? Though there had been some in her parish that had denounced Novas as "devils," most had embraced her and the other Novas, and her priest declared that they were "special" in the eyes of God. This, most of all, sealed her belief that she had a duty to help others. She was sent, a couple of months later, to Galvan.

Eileen graduated from the school several months ago and immediately joined Team Tomorrow. She has been going on missions for the past few weeks. She is still nervous about it, though, and because her powers are so passive in terms of battle, she provides mainly support roles.

Cat69

Name: Leila Marie Fairweather
Age: 26
Alignment: Team Tomorrow
Special Abilities: Weather Manipulation and Control
Leila can create, and alter weather conditions. It is easiest for her to alter an already existing weather to strengthen or weaken or reverse it, depending on the strength of it (i.e. if it’s an extremely strong storm system it’s very difficult and exhausting for her). If it’s a small system, like a rain shower, it’s easy for her to dissolve it and make it a beautiful day or feed it and turn it into a vicious storm. The strength of her ability is also dependent on proximity – within an area of one or two square kilometres her power is strongest but beyond that it deteriorates rapidly, although through her training the area has grown from what it was when she initially erupted.

While she can create strong systems like storms and hurricanes, it can be difficult for her to control and direct them if she spreads them over too large a distance or feeds them too much power. Even she is not entirely sure of all the limits of her power as she tries to never lose control - it happened once and she swore it would never happen again, though she has come close several times since.

Through her training at Galvan, Leila was able to gain a fine enough control over wind that she can manipulate air currents to lift her into the air. Though not ‘flying’ per se it is the easiest way to describe it. She rarely does this however, unless she absolutely has to, as it takes a lot of concentration and if her focus slips enough she could easily fall to her death. As a result of her particular ability she is able to channel lightning through her body and direct it where she wants – it’s not exactly comfortable for her to do this but it doesn’t harm her.

In addition, although not a power it is related to her eruption, her eyes can change colour when she uses her power. She has learned to control this for the most part but it can be a good indicator of when she is beginning to lose control over her power, as she no longer bothers to, or can’t, keep them from changing colour.

Codename: Torrent

Costume: While in her costume, Leila looks like she’s about to go for a ride on one of her motorcycles. She would prefer no costume at all but she was told she needed one. A compromise was made and her costume consists of black leather pants with a silver streak down the outside of each leg, a form-fitting black leather jacket with the silver streaks running down each arm and the sides of the body of the jacket, underneath she usually wears a tank top, and fairly flat, black, knee high boots that also have the silver streak. The TT symbol is unobtrusively emblazoned in silver on each shoulder of her jacket. All of her outerwear has been made to keep her warm when she takes herself high enough for the air to be frigid, to protect from most man-made weapons (knives, bullets etc) and her boots have added insulation in the soles to help her ground the electrical charge when she channels lightning through herself.

Appearance: She is a very striking young woman and tends to stand out. She has a mass of very long, blonde hair; her eyes are (usually) a clear sky blue. She seems to have a permanent tan from spending so much time outside. She is tall, standing just shy of 6'0"; she is slim and extremely toned and she works hard to keep herself in shape. Her build is obvious because she tends to wear form fitting clothes but not in an effort to flaunt her body –she doesn’t really need any help in that department – she just hates it when extra fabric gets in her way. She has a penchant for leather skirts, pants and jeans and she most often wears plain, fitted tank tops. As she has matured, her wardrobe has slightly as well and on occasion, and when necessary, she will dress in a more reserved manner. She has an eclectic collection of tattoos running up her arms and across her upper back – they range from Celtic symbols, to a traditional Japanese koi fish, to several small flowers, to a crescent moon which is at the center of all of the tattoos at the base of her neck. Despite the range in subjects they all seem to flow together well.

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual – she’s never really dated seriously though, just casual flings

Personality: She tries not to let anyone walk on her and hates seeing it when other people let it happen to them; she is quick to anger when she sees this happening, or anytime she sees someone demeaning someone else. Most people assume she is extremely vain because of her appearance but she seems to be surprisingly unaware of it - she often received negative, and positive though unwanted, attention while growing up – and refused to let it be what defined her. She tries to defend people whenever she feels they’re being treated unfairly; she is just as able in defending someone with her fists as she is with words. Generally, she is very laidback, mostly likely thanks to her West Coast upbringing, and is happiest when she is riding her motorcycle or sitting around a campfire with family or friends eating grilled salmon, her favourite food, and drinking beer.

History: Born and raised in and around Vancouver, BC, Canada, Leila had a relatively normal childhood. Her parents were both happy, caring individuals with professional careers. She was the oldest of three kids (one brother, one sister) and until she was about fifteen it seemed she was going to remain a happy, carefree person. When she started high school however, something changed with her. She would spend hours on end in the auto-shop class garage, skipping her other classes, and quickly took up with an older, slightly rougher crowd. The moment she could, she got a part-time job with a mechanic, saving up her money quickly to buy her first motorcycle when she could get her license. She started taking road-trips with these new friends and hanging out at bars with them – with her height and looks she could get in almost anywhere, no questions asked. Her parents, afraid of losing their daughter, actually found themselves being absorbed into the biker community along with her, which helped keep their tight-knit relationship in place. They supported her as much as possible – only getting truly upset with her when she actually started getting into fights, though it was usually with some guy who tried unsuccessfully to hit on her and took things way too far (especially when they didn’t realise how young she was). At seventeen, she dropped out of school and started working full time for a mechanic who specialised in motorcycles. Her skills and reputation grew over the next few years and right before her twentieth birthday, the mechanic she worked for opened a second shop and put her in charge of it.

Through this transition of hers, Leila was able to keep up her friendships with her long-time school friends, going camping with them almost as often as she went on road trips. It was actually on a camping trip (to belatedly celebrate her twentieth birthday as she’d been occupied with her new job when it actually happened) to Saltspring Island that her Nova abilities erupted. She and her friends were out wakeboarding and Leila was having a really bad day on the water, causing her temper to simmer just below the surface. Unnoticed by anyone, as Leila got angrier, the sky above them got darker and darker. It came to a head when, immediately after a huge wipe-out, a bolt of lightning tore through the sky and hit the motor of their boat causing it to erupt into flames. Fortunately, no one was hurt and everyone wrote it off as a freak accident. It wasn’t until a number of these weather related coincidences (though none quite as dramatic or potentially fatal) had occurred that anyone considered the possibility that maybe someone was unwittingly causing them. This idea was confirmed shortly after its birth when Leila received a letter from Galvan, inviting her to attend the school.

With a fair bit of trepidation, Leila accepted the invitation and hit the road on her bike to the original Galvan Nova Academy. As it turned out, she was very happy there; she finished her high school education and some university level courses. When she graduated she was asked to stay on and help teach the younger students, a position she accepted quite happily. For a few years she worked with the students on developing and controlling their abilities, all the while also strengthening her own, and, not surprisingly, teaching an auto-shop class. Eventually however, the lure of her old life in Vancouver pulled away from the school.

At twenty-three she returned home, she thought permanently, and took up her job with the same mechanic once more. For a year and a half she threw herself into work, relishing the challenges it presented. She caught up with her old friends, both the bikers and school friends, and her frequent mini-trips started once more. Quite abruptly one day, she announced she was taking a trip by herself on her bike. Within a week of this announcement she was gone and nobody was sure where. She sent the occasional mass e-mail to let people know she was still okay and having a good trip but never included any details of where she was.

When she returned, a little over a year later, she seemed to be the same but slightly more introspective. She happily showed people the photos of everywhere she’d been. They were almost all scenery shots with the odd one of Leila in front of some landmark or other. Another figure showed up repeatedly in the photos but she, and it was definitely a she, was always blurry and cut off at the edge of the photo. Anytime someone asked about the woman Leila always laughingly denied having any idea who she was and said that whoever asked was imagining things.

“So there’s a blurry woman at the edge of a couple photos, because you know there were no other people at the places I visited,” was the usual type of response. Gradually people accepted this explanation and actually started laughing about it as well.

Once again, Leila settled happily into her old life, occasionally taking week-, or so, long trips by herself in addition to her weekend expeditions. Until the recent upheaval it seemed that Leila was going to be staying around for a long time. However, after Adriana’s stunt Leila’s life was turned upside down. She had been away on one of her trips when it occurred but returned very quickly after saying she didn’t want to be away from the people she cared about with everything that was going on. All of her friends and her family stuck by her through the ensuing chaos and defended her to her detractors. At what was probably the worst point, government officials from the States showed up at her shop and started questioning her about Adriana’s location since she’d been a ‘known associate’ of hers at Galvan. Leila vehemently denied knowing anything and the officials backed off. Slightly suspiciously to her, an invitation to join TT arrived shortly after this. With some slight urging from those closest to her and largely for her own reasons she accepted the Galvan Corporation’s invitation once more and picked up her life to move to Washington.

She is very conflicted about the current situation. While attending Galvan, she was friends with Adriana and in a team with Admon and their views certainly affected her opinions regarding Novas and humans. She might have been influenced more but for two keys reasons – first, she was older than both of them (one of older Novas to erupt at the time, in fact) and, as such, her opinions and morals were quite well established within herself and second, she had, and still has, very close ties to her friends and family and her loyalties lie almost entirely with them. She joined TT so that she would be able to do whatever she could to protect them – if she didn’t have such a close relationship with them however, she doesn’t entirely know where she would have ended up. And, if anything does happen to them in the future, depending on who harmed them, she could easily change her loyalties – after exacting her revenge on the group/person at fault.

Pandali

Name: Arielle Leonora Mancini (Ari for short)
Age: 22
Alignment: Team Tomorrow
Special Abilities: Transfer Healing. Ari is able to heal anyone with any ailment she has encountered so far, but not without serious consequences to herself. When she heals someone, it is more of a transfer of ailments than an actual cure – whatever illness they had she then gains herself.
Specifics:
- Ari heals 75% faster than a normal human when she gets injuries directly (not pulled from someone else).
- When she transfers injuries or illnesses to herself, it takes her 25% of the time they had the wound plus the time they would have had the wound to heal.
- Thus, she cannot heal permanent injuries without permanent harm to herself – ie. Blindness, missing limbs, death, etc. She is not 100% sure on this, considering she hasn’t tried, but doesn’t want to risk permanently harming herself. The closest she ever got to this was when, still learning what her powers could do, she transferred lung cancer to herself. Luckily, one of the other novas had just discovered the cure.
- To transfer physical wounds, she puts her hands over the general area of the wound – this can be difficult when the wound is internal because she has to figure out the area it is in. As far as she knows, the only mental illnesses she can transfer are headaches, which she transfers by putting her hands on the person’s head.
- The only way she can heal herself, other than by waiting for it to naturally go away, is to transfer it onto someone else.
- Healing exerts a lot of energy. The larger the wound and the longer someone has had it, the more energy it takes to transfer it. When she does over exert herself – which can happen when she tries to heal too many people at once or heal something large like a gash running all the way along someone’s side – she faints and her heart beat slows. She can heal about 10-15 people with minor wounds at once, but only about 3-5 with major ones (broken arms, deep cuts, internal bleeding, etc.) Something that brings someone close to death – like the large gash mentioned above – it is risky for her to heal even one. One time she nearly went into a coma. This makes her very cautious about whom she heals and why, because fainting and having a large gash in one’s side can be very dangerous.

Codename: Remedy

Costume: Arielle has always loved Renaissance culture, and her costume reflects that, in a more modern way. She wears loose brown cotton pants underneath a knee-length green tunic. The tunic is a v-neck and embroidered with small, gold leaves along the collar, hem, and three-quarter sleeves. She wears a brown sash around her waist. The loose clothing also provides easy access to any external wounds she receives in her work.
The TT symbol is stitched in gold on the shoulder of the tunic.

She also carries with her a modern-looking brown brief case, embroidered with the TT symbol in gold and green. Despite being leather, the brief case is fire proof and water proof and has a large strap that she can sling over her head. Within it are several modern medical necessities – band-aids, gauze, rubbing alcohol, first aid kit, etc.

Not wanting to have hordes of fanatic people pounding her doors for “miracle healings”, she also wears a half mask. The mask is gold with two, large green cloth leaves coming off one side. ((I know you all don’t like pictures, but I felt the need to put up a link to a picture of this mask)) Her hair is usually in a braid wrapped around her head, to keep it out of the way.

Appearance: Ari is 5’5, thin, and not “well endowed” – she weighs about 135 lbs. She has very pale skin, which is prone to sunburns, but not to freckles. Her straight, light brown hair is usually in a braid hanging down to her waist. Her eyes are brown and her nose is rather sharp, but not so much that it is hooked or looks snobbish. Her face is elongated rather than round.

Typically, she wears jeans and a t-shirt or the occasional skirt. Her favorite color to wear is green, but she’ll wear almost any color accept for orange – it doesn’t look so good against her skin. Shoes depend on the occasion, but she prefers to wear sandals when she can. She has the habit of carrying a medical emergency kit with her everywhere.

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Personality: Because she so often has to deal with the pains of others, Ari has learned to hide her emotions most of the time – it’s hard enough dealing with pain without bawling and crying. It is also easier for those she’s helping if she is calm and collected. She hasn’t become used to pain – she doesn’t think anyone could – but she is able to handle pain, even in stressful situations.

She is calm and practical in most situations, but when she gets truly angry – which is not very often – she really loses her temper. Her words become sharp and cruel towards whoever she is angry at and she tends not to act very reasonably. Often she ends up aiming her anger at everyone around her, not just the person she is angry at. It tends to be more verbal than physical, though. Mostly what ticks her off is when people call her a liar, treat her as a second rate person who isn’t worth their time, or refuse assistance because of their own stupid pride – just because you’re strong or smart doesn’t mean you don’t ever need any help.

Romantically, she is very picky about who she dates. Growing up with a romantic novelist for a mother, she’s used to reading about all of the perfect guys and expects to find them out in the real world, too.

History: Ari was born in St. Paul, Minnesota to a romantic novelist and a Renaissance historian and professor – thus the rather elegant name. Needless to say, most of their family vacations were spent in museums or the occasional splurge on a European castle. How they fell in love she’ll never understand – every time her mother finishes a medieval romance, her father complains about how historically inaccurate it is.

She led a pretty normal life – going to school, hanging out with friends, going to parties, etc – until she was fourteen. She and her friend Karen were horsing around on a jungle gym in the park near her home – even though they both knew they were a bit too old to be doing so. All of a sudden, Karen fell and hit her head. There was blood all over the playground, no one else was around, and neither of them had thought to bring a cell phone with them. Arielle hurried down the jungle gym and ran over to her friend. Crying, she tore up the bottom of her shirt and pressed it to her friend’s head and just kept willing Karen to get better. Suddenly, there was a searing pain in Ari’s head - then it was gone. Ari opened her eyes and looked down at her suddenly woundless friend. Ari was shaking as Karen opened her eyes, sat up, and looked at her, rubbing her head like she had a headache. “What happened?” she asked. “You-you fell.” Ari replied, shakily. “Wow. I’m lucky I didn’t hurt myself – c’mon, let’s head back to your house...” Karen paused; she looked around and saw all of the blood around her. Eyes wide, she turned back to Ari and whispered, “What happened?”

Later that evening, Ari and Karen told her parents what had happened, not sure if they would believe it. Amazingly, they did and said that they had been hearing about different strange occurrences around the world from people known as novas. A couple of months later, she was off to Galvan.

It soon became apparent that she couldn’t simply heal people, and that the searing pain she had felt that day was the short time she had held Karen’s wound herself. She learned to be wary of when she used her skills and why. She graduated from Galvan feeling much more comfortable with what she did.

Knowing that there would be many people she would want to help but would be unable to without seriously harming herself, she went to nursing school to learn more practical ways of dealing with injuries so she could leave her gift as a last resort. She graduated just before the stoning.

The stoning made her angry, but Admon’s speech made her angrier still. He talked about not repeating history, but it seemed to her that was just what he was doing. To her, he was the next Hitler – he felt repressed, so he encourages all those repressed with him to destroy those who were repressing them. She knew it was probably going to end badly for Admon just as it did for Hitler, especially when he said that all novas should be leaders and Kings and stuff like that. That was completely illogical – not every nova could be a leader and someone would end up crushed under his regime, not only humans, but novas as well. He just wanted power for himself and was luring people to work under his dictatorship. His speech alone would cause chaos all over the world.

Not long after Admon made his announcement to the world, she was recruited for Team Tomorrow. She plays more of a support role than anything else on the team, but is often found out on the field – if not actually using her powers, then at least helping people get to safety or to a good hospital.

Posted: Fri Jun 15, 2007 8:41 pm

Accepted Devia Applications

Disturbing Tale Teller

Name: Clyde Klymond
Age: 24
Alignment: Devia Corporation
Special Abilities: Matter Chameleon-
Clyde has the ability to blend in with his surroundings. Even with clothes, if he's touching a material in particular, his skin can shift to take on the appearance of that material. Depending on what he's touching, and where he's touching it with his body, he can also shift to appear like many different material on top of each other. Leaves on earth, Carpet next to walls, Plastic lining to a wooden table.

The only thing he can not do is form any part of his body to be clear: meaning, glass and water are not his forte. Anything opaque isn't workable, as well. Also, if he is still touching a material, say, a brick wall, but not having his entire body against it, he could still take on the appearance of a brick wall, in color. He won't, however, shift into a large rectangle that appears to be made of cement and brick.

Later in his years of learning, he discovered that he can also become the consistency of some of the material he touched. It was rather difficult, however, so he never focused on it too much. It always would catch his interest to test his limits, though, so sometimes he played with it. If he touched a brick wall, sometimes he couldn't move as easily, his skin taking on the solidity of the brick and cement against his skin. It wasn't often, though, and left him rather exhausted, so he worked on keeping himself to his normal composition.

Codename: Used as a group name when he was still at Galvan, Clyde decided to call himself by the codename of 'Whisper', as it seemed to fit to his powers enough, and was better then some cheesy name like 'Camelio', or 'the human chameleon'.

Costume: Clyde isn't one for fashion, or anything flashy. Comfort is more his style, though his range in that is actually pretty high. His costume garb consists of a skin-hugging, dark gray, sleeveless, shirt, and a pair of skin-tight, faded, pair of jeans. Regular tennishoes keep his socked feet from treading on the ground.
It isn't anything too fancy, and it doesn't conceal his identity(unless he needed to, in which he would then only need some sort of mask on), but it allows him to use his Nova abilities while keeping close to surfaces as much as possible; no worries of loose clothing brushing against people to bother him.

Appearance: Random Sketches
Greased-back bleach blond hair, with light-brown roots. Some of it brushes into his face in the center- small strands he often rubs between his fingers when thinking. Piercing bright, often mean, green eyes that fade into dark green at the edges. Stands around 5'10", build being big-boned, but rather well toned in the muscle department. He has rather pale skin, and is estimated to be from mostly irish decent. Doesn't tan, though he doesn't burn very easily, either.

Casual wear tends to be on the slacker side- loose shirts, tank tops, comfortable jeans, old pairs of sneakers. He can dress up rather nicely, however, looking almost like a businessman in a silver tuxedo with a white undershirt, black tie, and black dress shoes. When he wants to look nice, but in a casual way, it's a button-up dress shirt, a pair of black slacks, and his dress shoes.

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual. He's been curious about both genders, though rarely has ever wound up with a date. He's open to anyone who sees his way, and who he can trust.

Personality: In his younger years, he thought himself to be high and mighty. He had a snide, cruel, way of looking at everything, and liked it that way. However, over the years, he's grown possibly a little softer, if not more stubborn. He still thinks rather harshly of other people, and still is more-than-not considered the bully type- liking the reactions of intimidation, more then respect. However, he's learned what things have worked to. He's one of the ones that have become intimidated, now, and doesn't like it.

Now, Clyde is a little more refined. When around people, he takes like an alpha dog- unless there's someone else within the group he thinks to be more superior- but is almost kind to those who listen to him. Anyone who gets out of hand get's the ol' superior bully routine he'd lived with through most of his life. He works more, now, to get to his goals, instead of intimidating others to do it for him, so he's almost become respectable. He's a hard shell with a mean temper, but sugar-free ice-cream soft interior. Not too soft, and not too icy-solid, and sometimes artifically sweet.

History: Clyde was one of the first few Nova to graduate from the first Galvan school. He started from there, and moved up.

From age 0, to age 10, Clyde grew up in southern Ireland, proving his Genealogy and looks to be at least mostly correct. He was a rather laid-back kid, then, but that changed when he moved to America.
Meet Clyde at age 11, to around age 20. He turned from indifferent, to mean. Picked on for his accent, and where he came from, he worked his slim figure to become more intimidating, and worked his way up to becoming the meanest kid in school. He enjoyed walking into the room and seeing everyone flinch. That was how he was when he entered Galvan... but lacking something, until about a month after his 16th birthday.

A simple deal... someone bumps into him in the cafeteria and knocks his tray into his lap. The cafeteria goes silent as bleach-blond muscle-mass stands up to glare at the kid who did it. A meeting planned after school, an intimidating sneer, and then a stalk out of the cafeteria. It was supposed to become just a little talk... Clyde didn't take too well to violence, but he never needed to.

Meeting time swings around, Clyde leans against a wall in the shade to wait. Either the kid'll come, or chicken out. Either way, he'll be afraid of him for the rest of the school year. Feeling a little light-headed, the 'bully' leans his head back against the wall. A few minutes later, the kid shows up. However...
Looking around the area, the 'prey' completely overlooks his impending doom. He glances directly AT Clyde, but eyes pass over empty wall. Confusion becomes evident over the muscle-mass's features, but it is hidden. Eventually, the kid walks away, and the other male steps away from the wall. That was when he noticed he wasn't quite there... or, the same, anyways.

His left hand was pushed against the wall, but when he stared at it directly, it looked just like the wall. Pulling his hand away, it returned to normal at a watchable speed. Shaking slightly, Clyde stared dumb-founded at his hands for a few moments, before regaining his composure, and walking home. Experiments were to be tested out, that night, and the ugly mug was a grin at school, the next day. It wasn't until about a week later that his parents discovered his Nova abilities... and sent him to Galvan.

From arrival to Galvan, he began learning more about his abilities... and about people. About the way the world was starting to come to. He never admitted it aloud, but seeing other Nova in the world on the television getting beat to death actually scared him. Before he graduated, he decided one thing: To work and keep himself from becoming that person stoned to death. To keep anyone he thought important enough from coming to that fate. Once again in his life, he felt almost indifferent. He still thought himself to be more superior to the regular human with no Nova abilities, but he was also understanding how inferior he was to some of the other Nova.

Graduating from Galvan, his grades had a tiny amount of A's, a fair amount of B's, and a few C's, he was a little smarter... and a little more world-aware. As the events began turning out, he wound up with the Devia Corporation. It wasn't exactly the goody-two-shoes, helping with everything, streak that Team Tomorrow was, but it wasn't as sinister as Admond and Adriana's works. It was more of an in-between group, which was just what he was closely related to. He had a job, and a way to work his purpose, so it suited his wants nicely.

How he got into Devia was a bit of luck, more than anything. He worked as a delivery boy for a while, only using his Nova abilities when he needed to, so he could 'blend in'. Oh the Irony of that. He was caught at one point in time, however, working on his skills with his ability, but it wound up becoming someone who worked in the Devia Corp. building. Clyde's snide responses to some of what the employee said booked him in for a meeting with the head of Devia Corp.

The meeting was a bit boring for Clyde, but he'd been given a proposition. His 'hiding' abilities were useful... he could sneak into places with no problem, if needed, and remove something, or put something in. There wasn't many with his power, as was with every Nova's powers, and he happened to be the first they'd found with his ability. With a flick of a pen, he worked for Devia Corp., and was soon becoming encouraged to keep his nose high and not be at unease with using his abilities within the city.

Clyde soon moved into one of the Devia Corp.'s living quarters, and was treated rather fairly. In exchange, his abilities were open for use when he gained a job, or whenever he was needed. Things were a bit smooth for him, and nothing moved too much in a direction he didn't want them to.

SenshiVulpix

Name: Kamil al-Abdulrahman

Age: 18

Alignment: Devia Corp

Special Abilities: Kamil is technically blind. But his power allows him to see with a sophisticated echolocation. His hearing is sensitive, but also resilient to high decibels. His range of hearing is also higher than a typical human's (~40000 Hz compared to 20000 Hz). The higher the frequency of sound, the clearer the image is. However, lower frequency sounds can 'see' farther (the energy doesn't dissipate as fast). In his mind, the sound is processed and he 'sees' fairly detailed black and white images. Black represents the absence of objects, while white would represent something right on his face. Varying shades of gray detail what is in between. A nice single sound gets him a clean image; he could map out details on a face 12 feet away ("You have seventeen zits on your forehead, didja know?"). Any sound will trigger this sight, so his ears hardly ever receive a single sound. Most times his mind takes multiple images of varying detail and merges them into a single picture, which happens every time he hears a sound. Add that to the fact that he generally gets a near 360 picture of his surroundings, and there is slight time delay (though keep in mind sound travels at 343 m/s), Kamil is prone to getting headaches. Sudden, unexpected changes in the sound environment (a large loud sound, or a sudden absence of sound) will startle and possibly stun him briefly. And if sound waves are unable to reach his ears properly (either his ears are covered or he's in a very wide and flat area), his power is rendered useless.

Codename: Visionary

Costume: His on-the-job outfit is nothing extravagant. He has a worn black leather jacket that he usually wears, unless the job requires other attire. If not in a hurry, Kamil also wears a dark green shirt underneath the jacket, along with black jeans and tennis shoes, and a bandana around his eyes that has green stripes on the ends. If he is in a hurry (or doesn’t feel like wearing a ‘costume,’) he just throws the jacket over whatever he is wearing.

Appearance: Kamil is smaller than the average male, only a little over 5'6'', and very skinny as well, though physical training with Devia has given him more muscle. His hair is black, coarse, and currently a 5-inch long mess all around his head. Under the bangs in the front, he wears a simple black bandana. It covers his now cloudy eyes that tend to roll aimlessly around, and to help him 'see' better with his ears (His eyes still can detect light and dark, which throws off his mental echolocation pictures). Kamil's clothes are usually well worn and baggy. His skin color is a darker olive color. When not out on the job, carries a white cane, not only to indicate that he is technically blind, but also to make noise by tapping it so he can see.

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual.

Personality: He is cynical and generally not that friendly to most people. When Kamil does talk, (for often he prefers to remain silent in his own thoughts,) his sharp tongue often releases sarcastic comments that tend to get him into trouble. He dislikes picking sides, and is prone more to inaction than action. Most people would call Kamil a pessimist, but he would call himself a realist. Life throws you nasty curves, get used to it. He also tries to avoid long conversations or other social situations, unless it's for some productive reason. Intellectual conversations are absolutely wonderful. But talking about some celebrity? Waste of time.

He likes to read in his spare time, having amassed a large collection of books on a variety of subjects (in Braille; it's too difficult to pick out printed text using his power, besides the fact no one taught him to read or write standard written text). A fair number are about languages, which Kamil continues to study in his spare time, in addition to removing the last traces of an accent from his speech. He also enjoys sculpting, sometimes with clay, but more often with less messy and more portable materials. In the morning, he is sure to get a cup of tea, heavily sugared. He loves tea. Kamil is noticeably cranky if he doesn’t get a cuppa in the morning, at least, if not several times during the day.

Kamil dislikes people who assume he can’t do things because of him being blind (yes, it has happened). It gives him a drive to prove them wrong, and once he sets his mind on a goal like that, it’s hard to stop him. In addition, he gets a little miffed when someone happens to be better than him at something, especially if Kamil thinks he’s really good at that task. He also lacks some common sense of when to hold his tongue, which obviously gets him into trouble. Usually his comments involve some kind of humor, though it may not be as funny to the person he addresses. He’s a little scared of thunderstorms, can’t stand pepperoni, and hates dogs.

History: Kamil was born in the governorate of Aden, which lies in the southern border of Yemen (a Middle Eastern country, south of Saudi Arabia), on the coast. However, Kamil and his family lived farther inwards, in a smaller village. He was his parents' third child, from the eventual total of six. The eldest was Rafi, followed by his sister Salim. After Kamil came his little brother Ali, little sister Jalia and eventually the little baby boy Shadi*. They lived in a small four-room house, with a decent income through their business in livestock (they owned a fair amount of sheep, cattle, and a few goats and camels). The children helped out as they could while growing up.

His childhood was relatively uneventful until his was five. It was then that his eyesight started to dissipate. It was at first dismissed as an excuse to get out of work, and was told to stop making up such stories. Only after he ran into a wall while playing with Salim and Ali that his parents took him to the nearby doctors.

After a few examinations the doctor determined that Kamil had some sort of hereditary blindness, and that the boy's sight would continue to deteriorate. There was no medicine or treatment they could give him, though he wanted them to keep bringing Kamil in for check ups, so he could monitor the condition.

Needless to say, the news was devastating, for both Kamil and his family. There was a short period of time when everyone was silent when he walked in a room and gave him a wide birth, as if blindness was contagious. But after a few weeks, they got over the fact he was having trouble seeing, and life went on. Kamil tried to make the best of it, but even at the age of five, was not very optimistic. Those who gave him the most support were his siblings; they treated him as normal, though he did not realize they did little things to make his life easier. Chairs he was about to collide with were moved; objects he was groping for pushed into reach; overlooking his obvious hiding place in a game of hide and seek; the list goes on. His mother would coddle him when he got upset; would explain why all this happened to him and how it wasn't his fault at all; how God intended him to be an example to others to appreciate the gift of sight (though Kamil couldn't help but wonder why God didn't pick someone else). His father, however, distanced himself from his second son; he would be of no use on the farm, it would seem. If only his wife could bear him more sons!

And so in a six month period, Kamil lost almost all of his sight. He could tell where light was, which helped him navigate when no one was around. His hearing improved some, as well as his other senses, to make up for the lack of sight. His parents got him a metal cane, painted white, so people would know he couldn't see, and so he could make sure not to trip on things (the doctor had sold it to them, after teaching Kamil how to get around).

When he was six ("nearly seven,” he would add), his mother sent him and his older brother, Rafi, to the doctor for Kamil's final check up, as his father was busy. Rafi seemed happy to do the chore- it would keep him out of the fields, and they would be in the main part of town for the majority of the day. It would be fun. Little did they know of the tragedy that was about to befall them...

"What's that smell?" asked Kamil, holding his brother's hand. They were walking home after seeing the doctor. He had told them they didn't need to come again; Kamil's eyesight would stay as it was now for the rest of his life. Of course, they had made a pitstop at the market, where Rafi had bought them both some sweets, and some qat (a chew plant for dad, but they both snuck a few pieces for later).

"What smell?" replied Rafi. "I don't smell anything."

Kamil sniffed the air again. "That smell... you know, like the one when we're cooking the old sheep that die."

"I don't smell anything. Besides, dad would've told us if he was doing that today."

"Would've told you," sulked Kamil. Their father hardly spoke to him anymore.

Rafi rolled his eyes, and ignored Kamil's comment. They walked in silence for a few minutes until Rafi stopped suddenly, staring off towards their house. Kamil kept walking, until his hand jerked out of Rafi's.

"What's the matter?" he asked, turning towards where he thought Rafi was standing.

"There's... smoke..." His brother's voice sounded distant. A moment later Kamil was carefully guided over somewhere off the road.

"Stay here," Rafi's voice commanded, but sounded rather shaky. In the distance Kamil could hear some screams, the sound of fire, a few gunshots.

"Wait-" he started to say, but Rafi had already gone.

Kamil waited. And waited. And waited some more. He eventually sat down, leaning against his cane, which he had stuck in the ground, like some sort of flagpole. He was worried. If there was smoke, there was a fire, and fire was bad. It was hard to put them out with just sand, but they couldn't use water- there wasn't enough of that. And why did Rafi sound so... chilled?

Several hours past before Rafi came back to him. The older boy collapsed next to his brother and did not speak. Tears were running down his face; Kamil could feel them.

"What happened? What is it? What happened?" he questioned, but got no answer right away. Rafi was holding him tightly and crying. Kamil started to get frightened.

It seemed like an eternity passed before Rafi spoke.

"They're dead," he whispered.

"What!?" came Kamil's equally hushed reply.

"O-our family. They're all dead." Rafi hiccupped once, trying to calm down and be strong for his brother.

"All of them?" came Kamil's horrified response.

"Y-yes. M-mom and dad and Salim and Ali..."

"Even Shadi?" Shadi was their little baby brother. How could he be dead? Kamil thought. Who could harm someone so small and innocent?

Rafi nodded, and then remembered who he was with. "Yes," he said softly.

Kamil sat in absolute silence for a long moment, in shock. Could this be true? Maybe Rafi was teasing- but that thought was banished as soon as Kamil thought it. Rafi wouldn't tease like this. And he had gone to the house, and no one came. And there was the smell of fire and...

Overcome with emotion, Kamil buried himself into his brother's arms, sobbing. Rafi wrapped his arms around his brother, and the two stayed like that for many hours.

---

Dirty business, it was, the neighbors said. All were saddened by the loss of such a prominent family in the community, and only two of the children surviving, well, praise Allah for that little miracle, but... it was still dirty business. Official cause of death was by fire, though everyone knew that the 'guests' Muhammad was seeing earlier killed them and then burned their house down. That Muhammad had been getting into some pretty tricky political situations, and the strong rebel hold nearby didn't like that. He should've thought more of his family and of his business, the neighbors said.

The community was not heartless though. They paid for the funeral service, and found a temporary home for the boys. They mourned the three days that were set aside for mourning, and then the community's life went on.

The two had no living relatives in the area, and no one had the means (or so they said) to take the boys on. Instead, they were sent into the city of Aden to an orphanage.

The place was an interfaith community, where one could practice any religion they choose (though emphasis was on Sunni Islam, as was the common religion in the region). It had been founded by foreigners, missionaries from some place, but had been taken over by more local factions, though many foreign volunteers worked there. It was also a busy city place, much different from their life in the village.

"Your name?" asked the secretary, who was given the task of making the records for new arrivals. She had a slight accent.

"Rafi ibn Muhammad al-Nuhad ibn Nasser al-Abdulrahman," Rafi said smoothly. He had a protective hand on Kamil's shoulder.

The secretary gave him a blank look. "Rafi... al-Abdulrahman," she wrote out carefully, leaving out the majority of his name. "And you?" She looked at Kamil, and Rafi gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Kamil ibn Muhammad-" But he was cut off by the secretary, who merely wrote down 'Kamil al-Abdulrahman.'

She pressed them for more information before assigning them beds in the dormitory.

---

The next couple of years the two boys spent their time adjusting to their new life in the orphanage. During the morning there were classes, and in the afternoon they were to either study, or were assigned some chore to do. This would be the pattern, they were informed, until they turned 12, at which point in time they would try and find work for them to do, to bring in money, unless they did exceptionally well at their studies in the orphanage. Then they could apply to be.

For Kamil, the adjustment was hard. There were hardly any tasks he could do well, and some he couldn't do at all. He had a hard time controlling his tongue, and more than once Rafi had to step in to keep his little brother from getting the crap beat out of him (not to say that Kamil couldn't fight; he bit, scratched, kicked, elbowed, kneed, punched and/or lashed out at –anything- during a fight. Those who attacked him often came out with an equal amount of injuries). Both were still deeply affected by their family's death; during the first few months Kamil would sneak into Rafi's bed at night, where he did not break into tears on occasion and cry into his brother’s shirt. Who told you that? They were obviously lying.

But life went on, and the years rolled by. They generally kept to themselves, though Rafi made more friends than Kamil, partially because of his outgoing personality, and because Kamil couldn’t partake in games of tag, soccer, etc. The two dedicated themselves to their studies, as there was little else for them to do. Plus, Rafi noted, it kept Kamil out of trouble, and both of their minds off of their family.

Nothing extremely noteworthy happened until Kamil was nine, which was when he got his own room. It was an unprecedented act at the orphanage until then. Kamil though, was special. Mainly because he always seemed to be involved in, if not the cause of, the fights that erupted after the lights were out. There were just too many of them in a single week, and the staff were really tired of fixing Kamil’s injuries, not to mention the ones on at least ten other boys. One of the storage rooms near the dormitory was cleared out and in it they stuck a bed and a small set of drawers. The bed reached from wall to wall, and the drawers were placed next to the bed, across from the door. It looked cramped, but suited Kamil just fine. The number of fights decreased almost instantly, and the staff too was pleased.

About a year and a half later was when his brother left. Kamil was nearly eleven, and Rafi close to fifteen. Rafi had been attending one of the local schools; his studies at the orphanage had been superior, and he had elected to continue learning. And then, one day, he returned home with some glorious news- he was going to study abroad! In America!

He’d come back during breaks though. And this was only a three-year arrangement, so he wouldn’t be gone forever. The orphanage was overjoyed; Rafi would spread word of their organization while there, which meant more money. And when he came back, he would be sure to find a good job. It would be excellent. Kamil was unsure about this at first, but after some long talks with his brother, thought it would be really cool. Plus Rafi would write to him and Hakim or Armir could read the letters to him. And if Rafi had some money to spare, he could buy Kamil some presents. Perhaps some more books- Kamil had only two books in Braille, and he had them practically memorized.

And so it was not long before Rafi left for his schooling in America. True to his word, monthly letters would arrive, and every now and then Kamil would receive a package, containing some sort of literature in Braille. He even got an English-Arabic dictionary in Braille; needless to say, it was quite large. At first, Rafi would come home for breaks, but then he started to stay in America for longer periods of time with his host family. Kamil missed him when he stayed away, feeling a little hurt and betrayed. But he still coveted the books his brother sent him.

Kamil continued his education at the orphanage, and did quite well, especially in his language studies, particularly English. The schoolmaster at the orphanage had a feeling that Kamil wanted to go to America too, like his brother. But the local schools did not want to accept him as a student since it would be too much of a hassle for them. The orphanage, being tactful, did not inform Kamil this was the reason wasn’t accepted into the schools. He didn’t mind too much (or at least he didn’t let on that he minded), as he got to stay and learn at the orphanage for an extra year, as they just could not find a job for him to do. Instead, because he was older, they had him lead shopping expeditions to get groceries as a way for him to earn his keep. Mostly it was to get him out of the building, as all children needed some fresh air. It's not as if they expected him to keep an eye on the younger children who went with him. All he had to do was remember what they needed to buy and hold the money until they found what they needed.
It was on one such shopping excursion that Kamil found himself, yet again, abandoned by his wards. It was a common occurrence. They would swirl and chat around him, and then direct him to a 'market stall' where they needed to buy something. Minutes later, they would be gone, and Kamil would be left standing next to a wall or post, or wherever they decided to leave him. After the first few times it had happened, Kamil got used to it and would often sit down to read until they came back. Then he would make sure they had gotten everything while they were out having fun, and then they would go home.

This particular day was no different, and after a quick investigation, Kamil deduced he was standing in front of an old wooden post of some sort. He sat down, cross-legged, to wait.

"So they just abandon ya, huh?" said a deep voice nearby. Startled, Kamil jerked up, and then sat up straight.

"Um, yes," he said.

"Saw it happen. Do they do it often?" the voice asked. It was to Kamil's left.

"Yeah, but they come back."

"Huh. Seems like a rotten thing to do, just to leave you out here."

Kamil shrugged. There wasn't much else he could do about it, and it gave him some reading time.

"Here," the voice said, and a hand touched his shoulder, "come sit with us in the shade. We'll keep an eye out for those kids."

Kamil, sensing he didn't have a choice in the matter, let the hand guide him a ways over, into some shade.

"Have a seat on the ground there. I am Hamal, a humble merchant. This is my wife, Umay."

A female voice spoke up. "Pleased to meet you..."

"Kamil."

"Kamil," Umay repeated. "I asked Hamal to fetch you; we see you often enough, and those awful other children always leave you alone out in the sun..."

"Uh... thanks," Kamil said, as he really didn't know what to make of the situation.

And so Umay asked for more information about Kamil, such as why he went to the market with the other children, and where he was from. In turn, they supplied more information about themselves and their store. It was one of the larger enterprises on that side of town, as they imported foreign goods. Kamil also met their two children, Malik and Damali.

Dinnertime came, and the wayward children still had not shown up. Umay invited Kamil to stay for dinner, as he had been such a good help by sorting an order of beads by size and shape (the other children had further sorted them by color). After dinner, Hamal telephoned the orphanage, explaining where Kamil was. They sent down one of their workers right away from him, telling Hamal that the children who left him there had been appropriately dealt with. Twenty minutes later, Kamil was picked up and taken back to the orphanage.

They next day, he was summoned to the Headmistress's office. Feeling angry that he would get into trouble when the other ones left him alone in the marketplace, he steeled himself for a serious scolding. Instead, he was informed he was to work at Hamal's shop from now on.

"One of the other boys who works in town will drop you off there in the morning and pick you up in the evening. Their family had generously decided to provide you lunch, so there is no need to bring one," she explained. "I suppose it was fortunate those boys left you standing there, eh?" She chuckled; Kamil forced a smile onto his face.

"Now, take these to them; it's some forms they need to fill out. Bring them back with you once they are filled out. Now, I believe Fathi will take you there today..."

And so Kamil began his first and only job in Yemen at Hamal's shop. He worked there doing sorting and other jobs that didn't need the use of eyes until he erupted, two years later.

It began a typical morning; Kamil was sitting outside under the awning, sorting through a box of nuts. Damali was helping him. Behind the counter to their right was Malik, who was 'in charge' while his father took care of some business on the other side of town. Upstairs, Umay was taking care of her new baby, Jamila, a beautiful little girl. She was born three months ago, to the delight of her parents.

Umay called something out the window of the second floor.

"What was that?" yelled Damali.

A louder, but still unintelligible call came from the window.

"What? I can't hear you!" yelled Damali again, louder. Kamil winced. It seemed especially loud. And something else bother him too, though he wasn't sure what it was.

Umay leaned out of the second story window. Jamila was in a cloth sling that tied around Umay's neck; she too dangled outside the window, but Umay kept one arm upon her child.

"I said, do you happen to know where I- oh!"

Just then, the sling's knot came untied. Umay's grip was not strong enough to keep her child from falling. Nor was she able to catch her; only to watch in horror as Jamila fell. The baby let out an almighty scream.

Suddenly, Kamil saw everything. The cry pierced into his brain, and illuminated the streets, the buildings, the people turning in surprise at the baby's cry. He saw Umay's panicked expression, Damali's one of astonishment. He saw Malik leaning over the counter, concerned. And he saw Jamila, her face screwed up as she screamed, tumbling midair.

It was like it was in slow motion; he saw how she was falling through the air, and if he just moved, just a little past the baskets full of rings, he could catch her. He darted forward, now in this world full of objects, things, people, arms outstretched, and he caught the baby, moving with her at first and then slowing her descent until she came to a stop.

She kept crying; each wail filled Kamil's mind with the images of people, of the buildings, of everything. They looked so familiar, but different at the same time. He was incredibly confused. He just stood there, clutching the crying baby, trembling.

Malik was the first to act. He leapt over the counter, and steered Kamil to the inside of their house, saying loudly things such as "Lucky catch, that!" and "Good instinct you have there." Then he told Damali to pack up any goods outside and come in as well.

Next came Umay, running downstairs, screaming, laughing, crying. She grabbed Jamila from Kamil's arms and began to soothe her, to kiss her, praising Allah all the while.

Kamil was still shaking, in shock. He could see it all, waves of images that would appear when there was sound, and fade when there was none. They would wax and wane in intensity. It frightened him.

Malik, noting Kamil's lack of movement, guided him over to a chair and made him sit down. Kamil provided no resistance, but seemed a bit jumpy.

It took quite a few minutes for Damali to close up shop, and for all of them to assure themselves that Jamila was all right, physically. The baby had a few bruises it seemed, but was all right.

Only after Jamila had been put to bed (which took a long time, as Umay was now reluctant to let the baby out of her sight for even one second), did they go to question how exactly Kamil managed to catch the baby.

"So... how did you catch her? How did you know where she was?" asked Malik. He considered himself to be in charge while Hamal was out.

"I-" He paused. His spoken word created another picture in his head, which caught him off guard. Steeling himself for more pictures, he started again. "I don't know. I- I just saw it."

His audience looked confused. "What, like a premonition?" asked Damali.

Kamil shook his head. "No. It's... it's more like I'm seeing. Seeing..." he faltered. He wasn't quite sure what he was seeing. Or how.

"Seeing?" repeated Malik, puzzled.

"Here, let me see your eyes," Umay said, and deftly took off the cloth Kamil wrapped around them. He flinched slightly as he saw her hands reach for his head.

Blinking at the removal of the cloth, Kamil realized his eyes had nothing to do with his 'seeing.' In fact, he found it harder to 'see,' because the light he saw in the room masked out parts of the image. But he could still see the three of them peering closely at his face.

Umay shook her head. "No, you see nothing out of them." She handed the cloth back, and Kamil quickly secured it over his eyes once again; most people did not like to look at them too long.

"Then how is he seeing things?" demanded Malik to his mother, who shook her head and shrugged.

"It's... it's like images show up when there is noise. When you speak. Or I speak. And I see everything around me, but there is no color..." supplied Kamil.

All of them were silent for a moment. Then Umay said, "Kamil, please go to Malik's room and stay there until someone gets you." She sounded distant.

Not having anything better to do, Kamil complied, carefully getting up and walking across the room to the bedroom door, where he let himself in. He could see their faces even with his back to them; the children looked nervous, Umay worried.

As he shut the door, he heard Malik quietly ask, "Do you think he could be a Nova?" His mother shushed him.

A Nova. A sudden feeling of dread rushed over Kamil. That would make sense; an unnatural way of seeing... he... he was a Nova.

He walked over to the bed, still shaking, and sat down. He found it ironic that now he was able to see again, something he had always wished would happen, that he would be killed.

He remembered a couple of years ago at the orphanage. One of the children had grown a tail. It was blue, and pointy at the end. He had also grown some long, fearsome looking horns, and some bat like wings. They had locked him away in a room when this happened; a government agent was going to come later to dispose of the unclean Nova. Everyone knew that Novas were an abomination, unclean in the sight of God, and needed to be purged from the earth. They were unnatural. It was a blessing to be rid of them.

Kamil knew all this, but sometimes wondered about it. He could not see the change, and from what he had heard, nothing else really changed about the person except physical abilities. Did their personality really change so much that God could no longer love them?

He had doubted it, as did many of the other children at the orphanage. He still remembered hearing Amir (for that was the Nova’s name) screaming for someone to let him out, for someone to save him. Kamil did nothing, partly because Amir had given him a black eye a couple weeks ago, and partly out of fear of retribution. No one else made an attempt to free the boy either, because of the same fear, or out of fear of Novas themselves. Kamil didn’t actually see the tail or anything, but from what everyone else said, they looked pretty scary.

At the moment, he felt like shouting for help too. It wouldn’t do him any good- in fact, it would probably get him into worse trouble. Oh sure, he could try slip out, run away... but where to? How would he be able to pass as normal, seeing all that he could without his eyes? He wouldn't know where to go, what to do; people would be looking for him too, and if they saw him acting normal, they would know something was wrong.

And so Kamil sat on the bed, thinking such thoughts, worrying, until Hamal arrived. It was several hours until he returned, and he was quite upset about the shop being closed during peak business hours. He told Malik was to stop goofing off and go answer the door; Damali was to go watch her sister. A quiet conversation between the husband and wife occurred, where she explained the morning’s events. Kamil didn’t hear much, but in the end Hamal and his wife came in and promised him that they would keep his eruption safe, and try to get him safely out of the country. They asked him to stay the night, and told the orphanage that he wasn’t feeling well.

The next day, he practiced acting normal with Malik, while the adults discussed what to do with him. Umay planned to send a letter to her relatives in Turkey, who may be able to adopt Kamil or send him somewhere safer. Hamal was not too sure that would work- Turkey too had social issues with Novas, and most of Umay’s family would be aligned with those who considered Novas to be unclean.

Nothing too out of the ordinary happened for the next few weeks. Kamil went back to the orphanage, where he did his best to act normal and not raise any suspicion. It was difficult, especially when fights started up. A few of his fellows noticed that his punches seemed a little less wild, and he seemed to dodge better. Still, they put it too luck, even if Kamil was acting a bit jumpy of late. He continued to work at Hamal’s, where they would discuss how far along they were in getting Kamil out of the country.

But on one such day while Kamil was working, a foreign friend of Hamal’s came to visit. His name was Brian Connel, an English businessman with whom Hamal did business. Hamal seizes Brian’s sudden arrival to ask him to adopt Kamil, as the Western world had been more accepting of Novas. Brian was initially hesitant to accept, when Kamil butted into their conversation. More importantly, they had been speaking in English, not Arabic. More conversation revealed that yes, Kamil was fairly fluent in English, due to his studies. Brian was not, and could use a translator for his business deals, especially one that could ‘see’ entire rooms in great detail and had exceptional hearing.

So Brian made the arrangements with the orphanage to adopt Kamil. Kamil ended up living with Brian, who was often away from his English home on frequent business trips. Kamil functioned as a translator for Brian, increasing his English speaking skills and learning a little of other languages, including Hindi, French, and Italian. He lived with his new guardian for three years, during which time his communication with his brother ceased. On occasion he would think about contacting him, but he and Brian were constantly on the move, and he was quite busy.

Kamil would have mostly likely ended up as Brian’s translator forever, if not for a business transaction with Devia Corp. It was there that some of that organization’s agents noticed Kamil’s ability, and offered better education, and training. Kamil jumped at the chance- he didn't really want to be Brian's cheap labor anymore, even though he was still very grateful for his rescue. Since he had turned eighteen, there was nothing Brian could do to stop him.

With Devia, Kamil first learned to control his power with more precision, making him able to see things father away and with greater detail. The also worked on his physical strength and reflexes, making him more able to function in combat, though he tends to work more with missions that need surveillance than pure force.

*Full Family Information:
Full name: Kamil ibn Muhammad al-Nuhad ibn Nasser al-Abdulrahman
Father's name: Abu Rafi Muhammad al-Nuhad ibn Nasser ibn Qabil al-Abdulrahman
Mother's name: Umm Rafi Duaa al-Abdulrahman
Children's names (oldest to youngest, with age relations): Rafi (male: 10), Salim (female: 9), Kamil (male: 6), Ali (male: 4), Jalia (female: 3), Shadi (male: 1).

krome_devil

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krome_devil

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Posted: Fri Jun 15, 2007 8:42 pm

More Accepted Devia Applications

Talon Prime

Gaia Name: George Crux (I have changed one of my mules to make it easier)

Name: George Crux

Age: 25

Alignment: Suffra, barely. Devia Corporation

Special Abilities: Sonic manipulation. In the most basic terms, George can control the path, and intensity of sound. Dampening it down to nothing, or amplifying it to a deafening roar and physical wave. It is, however, manipulation and not creation. Without ambient sound to work with, he would be powerless in this aspect. It also takes time to amplify sound, so it is not as if he has an unlimited amount of munitions in any given situation. In the right place, however . . .

Just for comparison purposes, here is a chart of decibel levels- the measurement of how loud a sound is.

1 - The smallest difference between sounds detectable by the human ear
10 - A light whisper
20 - A quiet conversation
30 - A normal conversation
40 - Light traffic
50 - Loud conversation
60 - Shouting
70 - Heavy Traffic
80 - Loud noise; subways, rock concerts
90 - Very loud; thunder
100 - Jet engine takeoff; temporarily deafening
140 - Extremely loud, painful, deafening

It is also possible to feel sound as a physical force. Anybody that has been near a large speaker that was turned up can tell you of the way wind is created by the sound. This is not possible unless a large amount of sound is concentrated, or expelled. While it is something George is capable of, without a very loud source to draw upon, it is typically a single shot situation. With such a large amount of sonic power, it becomes visible to the naked (human) eye. Seen as a confined ripple, imagine looking straight down a glass of water as you bump the table it is on, only the ripples do not dissipate.

Other abilities include amplification of sound- meaning he can make a conversation louder from a distance, but only to a certain degree. If a sound is raised above around 15 decibels, all quality is lost as the sound evens out. While is starts as a conversation, if raised too much, it will become a single tone.

The inverse is also possible, though. Calling it his 'Null Shell,' George can reduce sound around him to nil, literally canceling out the sounds in his immediate area, to a radius of ten feet. He has no control over the range of this as of yet; it is merely like a switch. Should the cancellation be enacted, it is on in a spherical area.

As a side effect of the advanced sound capability, George's hearing is greatly amplified. Able to hear a fraction of a decibel, his hearing rivals that of any Nova documented. Also his hearing extends beyond the upper and lower limits of the human ear, making him capable of hearing both Super and Ultrasonic tones.

Unable to control that, however, he was forced to have a limiter surgically set into his inner ears. Three settings are available to him via sub dermal control in his hand. Off, allowing him to use his full hearing, Partial, which keeps his hearing close to normal human and allowing him to live a 'normal' life, and Full, whereas his hearing is protected should he be in a loud noise situation. He is unaware of anybody having access to his control but him as it is fused into his being, and is biotechnology developed by the Devia Corporation.

Recently, he has begun to experiment with developing a form of sonar. Combining his hearing with mild sounds (often out of human range), he is able to discern some extremely basic information of his surroundings. this can be done with almost any sound, not merely the squawk of a bat, or something like that. This is an ability that can be developed, but not one that is instinctual to his Nova status or abilities. As such, he has yet to truly experiment with sounds for any optimum result, or to discern more than the size of a room he is in

Nothing is without consequences, however. Though he has yet to truly see what his power can do, neither his projection, amplification, or nullification powers will ever likely cause a drawback. What problem there is, however, is his storage of energy. Regardless of how his powers are used, if he overexerts himself, his body will 'evolve' into a more efficent sensory and storage component for sonic vibrations. Rather than go deaf, his body will become more and more sensitive to sound, literally becoming more of a living ear. If severe enough, his limiter will be of no further use.

To date, Crux has absorbed a maximum of 173 decibels for immediate use. That was a massive strain on him, but not an permanently damaging one. 185 decibles would cause him great unease, and likely begin a physical change, but one so small as to be difficult to discern. A good estimate of his limit would be around 200 decibels, as long as they are immediately used.

Retaining sonic energy for later use is a different situation altogether. Holding less than 100 decibles of sound is not taxing, and he can do that often with no ill effect. However, going over that for anything longer than a few minutes begins to be difficult. Going over 150, or holding 100+ for longer than about five minutes causes his skeletal structure to ache terribly. Like a body-wise arthritis, increasing in pain for every ten minutes it is held.

For instance, at the onset, it is a mild discomfort. After about ten minutes, it becomes a dull ache across his entire body. Another ten minutes and the pain is enough to make him wince. Yet another ten minutes (we are at 40 minutes of holding his charge above 100 decibels) and his concentration is very difficult to hold on anything due to pain. Another few minutes and it takes all his willpower to fight off the pain his body screams at him. At one hour it is nothing but pure agony and chances of him holding on are slim to none. The pain is overwhelming, and he will let it go at the first point he can. Any longer and you run into taint situations.

Recovery is simple. If given the chance to rest completely- literally doing as little as possible including movement, he will recover at a 1:1 basis. Holding ten minutes will cause ten minutes of pain. Normal exertion, such as walking, moving, and basic manuvers double that time to 2:1, twenty minutes of residual pain for every ten of exertion. If pressed, such as running, fighting, or forced into heavy labor, it becomes 4:1. Yes, for every ten minutes of inducing pain, it takes a literal fourty minutes to recover from it.

At that level, there is a very good certainty of his powers causing him to alter physically. Likely 'evolutions' include loss of external ears, and a mutation of head and torso to be more dolphinlike. Using the abilities of a Nova to capitalize on sonics as a weapon and navigation purpose, his echolocation/sonar would improve dramatically, but eyesight would suffer, as would agility and speed on land.

Codename: Octave

Appearance/Costume: Basic - Since joining Devia, his look has become much more robust. Filling out his near six foot tall frame, he is of slightly heavier than medium build. Muscular, but in a toned way as opposed to a wall of muscle. Typically he keeps his light brown hair crew-cut, mostly for convenience. His face is adorned by a 'Fu-Man-Chu' style mustache of a light red hue, appearing more intense as his skin is rather pale. Not due to any disease, George is not a fan of sunlight, and as such it shows in how pale he has become. His eyes, however, are a striking ice blue. In fact, at first glance some would even think him blind.

Civilian - When out in public, he is rarely fashionable, but acceptable. Favored clothes include tee-shirts with sayings or comic book character insignias on them (which he feels is hilariously blasphemous), jeans or cargo pants, and tennis shoes. It is very rare for him to be outside without a ball cap and sunglasses on, as he has an aversion to bright light. It is not a physical problem, just a preference- George likes it dark. When the weather allows, he enjoys wearing a duster (leather trench coat) that is not a single tailored piece, but rather a patchwork look of many odd shaped pieces of leather. All of it a dark tan, but still giving a haphazard appearance.

Devia - When in full 'regalia' of Octave, however, he dons a different look. Wearing a suit of matching colours, he is typically found in graphite gray. Boots to a visor over his eyes, the color is uniform. Across his chest lie two bandoleers set in an X formation harness, each holding about seven medium pockets. Though not large enough for any real weaponry, they do tend to carry an assortment of smaller items used for tasks or sound creation- like a tuning fork, a small flashlight, leatherman tool, high decibel alarm, etc. For an insignia, he chooses to have a tuning fork of dark blue put on both the biceps of his shirt, and on the upper thigh of his legs.

On his forearms, he prefers to wear a pair of bracers, each equipped with a set of speakers facing forward/the hand. Each can be used for quick deployment of either a 60 decibel burst, or a 40 decibel continuous tone. Over his eyes he wears a visor colored the same as his suit. It provides a HUD for him with basic information about the mission he is on. Connected via WiFi connection to base, it allows for communication with his employers, or mission leaders instantly, even if his null shell is in effect. Equipped with a small camera, George can serve as either espionage or communications officer on a mission quite well.

Sexual Orientation Heterosexual. While not disgusted by the opposite sex, or homosexual dealings, such pairings never held any interest for him, nor offered.

Personality: George takes great pleasure remaining out of the way. He learned early on that by staying out of the limelight, he can observe others as they tend to ignore him. As a younger man in school, he played the role of an outsider. Not the rebel that caused troubles, nor the geek that everybody picked on. In fact, few even took note of him there for the most part. No, he remained off to the side, unobtrusive.

The only times he spoke up, it would shock people. Some because he rarely spoke, but others because he would say things that were not only accurate, but also knowledgeable. For instance, when one student tried to be an a** and hid several important items for the class (tests, the main grade book, etc), he was not unnoticed. When it was most beneficial to him, meaning when the teacher was about to blow and punish the entire class, his hand raised slowly and through a large grin he told the entire tale of how he sat to the side and witnessed the theft.

This is not to say he uses his information for good, however. In fact the only good he has served consistently is himself. Later such observant skills were put to use in the form of blackmail. Though he was less than popular, getting a date for his senior prom was more difficult than it should have been for him. After a few attempts and failures, George managed to witness several occasions where his favored cheerleader was smoking pot. Rather than rat on her, he merely documented it with a small digital camera- complete with dates and times stamped on the photos.

Approaching her after classes one day, he calmly asked her "Do me the privelage of going to prom with me." When he laughed in his face and flatly rejected his offer, he smiled in return. She was of a whole different social status and it would be disastrous for her to be seen with him. Then again, her school status would be harmed much more by the three photos he produced out of a pocket. Her face blanched to an ashen white and as she stammered he could only stand still as stone- his smile no longer warm and kind.

It was then when he felt the first true surge of power that being observant can do. When prom came, he was happy to give her the pictures. His reputation grew by leaps and bounds as he walked into the dance hall with one of the most lovely women in school on his arm. Only after the evening was over did he hand over his evidence- which she promptly tore to shreds. George let her have her moment of relief. When her triumphant look met his cold smile again, she was confused.

Confused until he showed her his camera, and she realized it was digital. With a laugh of evil glee George walked away, letting her wonder how much it will take for her to get those pictures eliminated. She still waits to this day. It has not been too long out of high school, and after prom George never used that set again. It is merely a minor thing anymore, but enough to use as leverage if he needs a favor again.

Cautiously weighing his actions, his smile is not to be trusted. Just because he is introspective doesn't mean he isn't cataloging your actions for a later use. The trouble is, there is no telling if the use will be for good or ill, only that it will be in his benefit.

History: George has spent much of his life unobtrusive. Not sticking to the shadows, for that would draw attention and seem emo. Rather than doing something so blatant, he merely stayed off to the side and watched. This is how he acted through school, and over time he began to play a game in his mind. Guessing how relationships would develop or fall apart became his favorite pastime. Petty squabbles became entertaining, other's drama was his venue.

As one might imagine, even as he kept his entertainment under wraps, his social life was not a very rich one. As a very private person to begin with, that suited George just fine. Truth be told, there was only one activity where he was not content to stay out of the way- swimming. The buoyancy provided by water afforded him a new level of both relaxation and movement. It was as if he was meant to be in the water. Throughout school he won several medals in swim meets, and earned just enough clout with others to be respected- but not enough to be revered. Again, this was a machination of George's. Neither wanting to be bullied like an outcast, nor elevated as a jock, he remained cautiously in social limbo.

This continued on past high school and into college, where his cautious balance was maintained, though at a higher effort. Taking a psychology major, George reveled in starting classes designed to help him understand the minds of others. Unfortunately, the path of his life was about to change.

One day, classes over by noon, he was swimming in an Olympic length pool. Losing his emotional barriers in the freedom of water, George decided to get brave, and go for a dive from the second highest board. While not a picture-perfect dive, it allowed him to go deep into the water and enjoy it for a moment beyond anything he can compare. Resting for a moment on the bottom of the pool, literally 15 feet down, his hearing enacted.

Amplified by the conductive properties of water, he could quickly hear more and more of those in the pool with him. Conversations of the idiotic prissy girls in the shallows were as clear as if he were sitting next to them- not on the other end of the pool. A couple of frat boys' talking about a kegger set up a few days in the future suddenly opened up to him just in time to hear talk of them spiking the drinks with illegal drugs. Their hopes of having an orgy or something. Losers. What caught his attention, however, was the softest sound of all. One of the female professors had come for a bit of a swim, and her heartbeat was barely audible . . . but it was not steady.

The moment all this had come to pass only was a second long, but having taken biology, and felt the pulse of a woman more than once, George knew something was wrong. Angling himself towards the professor, he launched himself like a torpedo towards the surface. Through a few heavy breaths, he asked her if she was alright. Scared, the woman only could shake her head. Pain wracked her chest, and breathing was becoming difficult.

Wasting no time, George raised an alarm, and EMTs made it just in time to save her life. Turns out a few too many fatty meals had caused a heart attack in the Professor, and now she owed her life to him. Unfortunately, this caused him to gain some level of celebrity. While the gratitude of the staff can be a good thing in college, the attention made him uncomfortable. What made him even more uncomfortable was the heightened hearing he now endured. Everything, from the adoring murmurs, to the envious whispers around him came through clear as a bell. Walking out in the street became torture as every noise sounded impossibly loud.

Despite the fact that he is becoming a Nova, George ignored that nightmare as long as he could. After the difficulties of the world with Novas, he was reluctant to join the group centered in the World's eye. Spending his life staying out of the way, now he was thrust into the realm of not only local celebrity, but global. Left with little choice, he tendered his resignation from college and joined the Galvan Nova Academy.

Upon graduation, he was forced to wear earplugs in order to filter his hearing. Still, everything was so uncomfortably loud . . . Then came the Devia Corp. Specializing in tech designed by Novas, for Novas, it seemed the best place to go and find relief from the pain. While applying for the tech, and hoping to find a perfect solution, conversations popped up. While unwilling to say much, it was eventually worked out of him that George was disillusioned with both the hope and 'goody-two-shoes' outlook of Team Tomorrow, as well as the militant separatism of Admon Lemuelz or Adriana Estacado. George just wanted a comfortable life looking out for the only person he ever truly cared about. Himself.

Only after all this was divulged did he finally find what he wanted- an audible limiter. It was perfect! Various levels of control, implantable so it can't be lost or require a battery replacement, everything was exactly as if it were tailor made to his desires. All, that is, except the cost. As it was not only newer tech, but designed for a Nova, it was hideously expensive. Crestfallen, George sighed that he might have to see if there is a market for Nova kidneys, as that is the only way he could afford what he needs. Of course, He couldn't know that he wasn't the only hearing-enhanced Nova in the building.

Before he even could leave the room, George heard the receptionist's keyboard begin to clack at an amazing speed. Not really paying attention to it, he began to shuffle away. To his surprise, the woman actually called for him- softly. "Excuse me, Mr. Crux? You are requested to see Ms. Bianca. She would like to discuss your needs."

George started to argue, but stopped himself quickly. The woman didn't call for him with a normal tone, showing she was informed not to be loud. From her vantage point, she couldn't have seen what he was looking up. Also, somebody called for him? Not knowing anybody in the building, it intrigued him that somebody called for him by name. Taking the cautiously quieted directions, he came face to face with the woman that summoned him.

Similar to a mafia movie, George was given an offer he couldn't refuse. the implant, it's controls, and a job. On the lookout for those willing to put their Nova abilities to her banner, rather than the extremes of Team Tomorrow or Admon, Ms. Bianca minced no words in her offer. His skills in return for what the implant and fealty. It didn't take him long to accept.

Now a member of Devia, George revels in the fact that few even pay him any mind except to be cautious around him. Nobody knows what to expect from Devia, or George . . . and he likes it that way.

Sample Roleplay: George sat nonchalantly in a Starbucks. Sipping the flavor of the week, he sighs and wonders just where a person might get 'coffee' flavored coffee anymore. Still, that is just a passing thought. Dressed in casual attire, his faded X-Men shirt always brings a sardonic smile to his face as he realizes the prophetic nature of their comic in the new world rife with Novas. Still, there is no Xavier institute. No high-moraled people that championed the Novas when they were needed.

Sure, Team Tomorrow is doing their best. Working round the clock to improve Novas and 'help the world'. Unfortunately, they are a day late and a dollar short. Taking a sip of his drink, George smiles softly at the thought of some idiots in tights going around like '50s heroes and saying cheesy things. On the 'brotherhood' side, there is Admon. What a putz. Without any subtlety or finesse, he changed the world just like Hitler. Now, because he got his leaves in a wad, the world is on a teetering balance.

Still, that is part of what brought him here. Slow in this time of day, the dead of the afternoon, this particular part of town resides a few power brokers, but more importantly, there are a few mob bosses. Nothing like gathering dirt on those with enough power to carve life out in their own plans . . . With a touch on his palm, George disables the limiter in his ears, and for a moment he swoons as a flood of sound approaches his senses.

Still, it is worth it as he smiles and regains himself in time to hear about the underworld's comings and goings. Carefully typing on a special laptop, he takes intricate notes on times, dates, names, and numbers that in the right timing can make all the difference against a powerful bunch of men. "Another file for my library . . . welcome to my dominion, Don Vito." Naturally, it was too soft for anybody but him to hear, but in his enhanced ears, it is almost a scream of joy.

Posted: Fri Jun 15, 2007 8:44 pm

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krome_devil

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krome_devil

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Posted: Fri Jun 15, 2007 8:44 pm

Plot Summaries

Coming Soon!

Posted: Fri Jun 15, 2007 9:22 pm

Miscellaneous Information

The Team Tomorrow Headquarters

Located about thirty minutes from Washington D.C. by car and ten minutes from the nearest town by foot, the Team Tomorrow headquarters looks almost like a large, fancy hotel. Made primarily of of a dark red brick, the building has ornate, arched entryways, numerous faux-shuttered windows, and a series of white columns reminiscent of the White House across the main entrance. To see this architecture up close, however, one must first be allowed through the large and rather imposing front gate, made of wrought iron and nearly twice the height of the average man. The drive towards the actual headquarters passes through a number of lush gardens before finally opening up around the central fountain, behind which the building in question lies. This fountain, made of light stone in several progressively smaller tiers, features plaques with the names of each Team Tomorrow member around its edges.

Passing the fountain, one enters the first floor of the headquarters, which opens up into a large central area. Intended primarily to ensure a good public image--and also to screen any visitors before they reach more sensitive areas--this first floor includes an information desk, a number of leather couches situated around a small glass table for lounging, several rooms for press-related functions and a few suites for those visitors not trusted elsewhere. The floors and walls appear to be made of some sort of marble, and in its detail the inside is no less ornate than the outside. A pair of elevators on the far side of the main room lead to the upper floors.

These floors include housing for the Team Tomorrow members; though all the rooms are of generous size, some are more personalized than others. A few have offices attached to them. Above the housing floors, there are a number of multi-purpose rooms for whatever purpose needed, including storage. Though the entire building is reinforced against any misuse of power, for true practice and experimentation the top floor features a large room that has been prepared to take and contain damage from as many types of attacks as its creators could imagine--anything from fire to psychic force to nuclear energy. A control room off to one side enables other team members to control the environment inside.

Admon's Headquarters

The jungle of Admon's country starts slowly. Just a bit more plant life than you might expect the average desert. As one travels inward, the plants grow more numerous and shift from cacti to small, dry trees and then to ferns and vines and larger trees and finally, almost unexpectedly, to full jungle. Though in some jungles there's little to no plant life in the dark depths near the ground, in Admon's jungle green forms of life cover almost every square inch of dirt; one could pass three feet from his headquarters and not know it, especially considering that the headquarters itself is made with the same plants as the forest. The walls themselves appear to be woven of living vines, with bones--some of them human--beaded in as decoration.

The entrance to Admon's personal dwelling opens up first into a sort of meeting room where Admon usually makes his announcements from; there is no furniture, though there are a number of large tree roots acceptable for sitting on. Behind that room lies Admon's own area, which few have actually seen. His followers live in separate huts, each of them made of the same materials; though some of them still have furniture or technology from the modern world, others make do with little more than what Admon's plants provide. Admon's headquarters and the huts are situated around a small clearing, for ease of access, but a large tree similar to the others in the area is planted in the middle of it, so as to hide the huts from any nearby flyers.

Devia Corporation Headquarters

The Merc headquarters is located in the heart of downtown Chicago, not far from the lake front and the relatively famous Sears Tower. With twenty-five floors and a flat, mirrored exterior, the building is almost like a miniature skyscraper. The main entrance is a large revolving door, within which a metal detector is hidden; several guards are stationed just within the building in case of trouble. In addition to a number of other guards spread throughout the building, the Merc headquarters features a security system that prevents anyone without an employee card from going beyond the entryway, and anyone without voice and thumbprint verification from accessing classified areas.

The entryway itself is decorated sparsely, with dark tile floors, harsh lighting and plenty of sharp angles. An information desk is located on the left, while four elevators line the far wall. The upper level floors, which consist primarily of offices, conference rooms, and storage areas along a few suites for those who live at the headquarters, are decorated in the same fashion. There are a few other facilities too, such as a small gym, to support their live-in employees. Overall the building has a very sterile, technological feel, though some of the rooms occupied by the techiest members beg to differ with the former.

krome_devil

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krome_devil

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Posted: Sat Jun 16, 2007 12:43 pm

ninja And another...

Archives - Memories that we don't want to let go

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